


Method Acting

by SmonksTheMuse



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bullying, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Getting Together, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Multi, Post-Canon, Post-Squip, Rating May Change, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-07-06 18:28:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15891594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmonksTheMuse/pseuds/SmonksTheMuse
Summary: She tries not to dwell on it, but Christine is still hurt and angry about everything Jeremy did. She's becoming closer friends with him, and the possibility of a romantic relationship still lingers, but she hasn't really forgiven him.Michael would love nothing more than to go back to the way things were, but he can't just forget about what Jeremy has done. They're trying hard to fix their damaged friendship, but Michael would be lying if he said there wasn't any bitterness and pain still left inside him.They both need an outlet for their feelings, and when Christine lands a part in a local production, they find just that. What's more, they have Jeremy, the cause of it all, as a willing participant.





	1. Chapter 1

"Hey, Christine!"

She looked up and saw Jeremy coming over to her table, with Michael following a step behind. He set his tray down across from her and quickly took a seat. "Hi," he said again, smiling. Michael sat down beside him, fiddling with his headphones like he hadn't decided if he would put them on or not. He greeted Christine with a wave and smile of his own.

"Hey, guys," she said, sitting up. "How's the day been so far? I thought I was gonna have a quiz today in history, but it turns out that's gonna be on Friday. Which is good, because I haven't really studied the chapter yet. How are you?"

Jeremy picked up a tater tot and held it in the air as he thought. "I'm good! Uh, not much has happened really today for me. I saw Rich do a cartwheel in the hall."

She laughed. "Oh my God, he did? He's so ridiculous."

"It was a pretty good cartwheel," Michael said. "Think he practices?"

"I don't think he practices so much as he's just always moving and jumping around." She ate a Dorito. "I bet he'd be really good at gymnastics."  
"He probably would," Jeremy agreed. "Short guys are good at that, right? I mean, shorter guys are kind of better at it. Like, it's... easier to do stuff because they're short? I think...?" He trailed off and put the tater tot in his mouth.

"Yeah, I think so." Michael took a long drink of his soda. "He seems to just like dancing, though. He should be a dancer."

"You know what I think?" Christine leaned forward on her elbows, grinning. "I think he'd make a great Spot Conlon from Newsies."

Jeremy laughed. "He would! He totally would, he'd be perfect!" They chuckled at the idea, while Michael shoved half a sandwich in his mouth before asking, somewhat muffled, "Why, is Spot Conlon short?"

"Short, muscular, and loud," Christine told him happily. "Rich would rock that role."

Michael grinned. "Nice."

"Hey!" Jeremy said suddenly. "Um, speaking of Spot Conlon, and Newsies, and shows in general, uh. Is there..." He gestured vaguely. "Is there any news - ha, news - that you wanna share with us? Like... something that happened over the weekend...?"

Christine looked at him blankly, watching as he grew slightly uncomfortable with her lack of response. Michael looked a little concerned.

"Did you... not get...?" he started.

Then she smirked, reached into her backpack, and pulled out the script for the show she had just been cast in. She slapped it down on the lunch table proudly. "Read it and weep!" she crowed.

"You got a part!" Both the boys cheered. Michael grabbed the script and pulled it toward him. "What's your character's name?" he asked, flipping through the pages.

"Did you get a big role?" Jeremy asked excitedly, peering over Michael's shoulder.

Christine tapped her fingers on the table with a grin. "Yes! I got a really important part! I mean, all the parts are important, you know, but like, you couldn't have the show at all without my character! Guys." She leaned over conspiratorially. " _I'm the main antagonist!_ "

The two of them looked up at her, surprised and excited. "You're playing the _bad guy?_ " Michael said eagerly. "That's so cool! Villains are awesome!"

"Yeah!" Jeremy agreed. "I can't believe you're gonna be the antagonist! I mean, I can, you're a great actress, you can play any part, but - I mean you're so nice, you know?"

"I was a little surprised, too!" Christine told him. "But I'm not gonna let the director regret it, I'm gonna practice until I _am_ the character! It's gonna be great!" She tapped her fingers even quicker, beating a staccato rhythm on the table. "I've been reading and memorizing my lines every second I get since I got the script. I have _tons_ of lines."

"Hell yeah, you do!" Michael continued turning the pages of the script, taking in the many, many highlighted passages. "This is so much to memorize." He handed the book to Jeremy. "How and why do you guys do this?"

"Because it's so fun!" She said happily. Suddenly a thought occurred to her; Michael was right, she did have a ton of stuff to memorize. And she knew from experience that it's better to have someone to read lines with you when you're rehearsing so that you weren't just saying your lines into an empty room without anyone to prompt or respond to you. And Jeremy liked acting too, so maybe -

"Hey Jeremy, would you help me practice my lines sometime?"

Jeremy looked up from the script. "Help you practice? Like, you want me to read for the other characters?"

She nodded. "Yeah! It'll help me get it down faster. Maybe you could come over sometimes after school?"

Jeremy flushed a little and ducked his head, smiling. "Um, yeah, I think that'd be great! I could do that! It'll be fun!"

Michael glanced over and grinned at Jeremy, who pushed his face even further into Christine's script. One of Michael's hands was playing with the cord of his headphones, and as she watched him twist and twine it around his fingers another idea came to her.

"Michael, do you want to help too?" she asked. Michael paused and tilted his head.

"With your rehearsing? You want me to read lines too?"

"I mean, you could read lines if you want, but I was thinking you could watch me and Jeremy go back and forth and tell us what you think of how we're doing it. You'd have the perspective of the audience, and you could critique my body language and expressions and stuff!" She smiled brightly. "Like a junior director!"

Both boys laughed at that. "Watch you and Jeremy, huh? Critique the performance? Sure, why the hell not!" Michael threw his hands up dramatically. "Junior Director Michael Mell it is!" he proclaimed, loud enough that a few kids from another table turned to glance at them.

She and Jeremy giggled. "Perfect!" she said. "Are you guys doing anything today after school? We could start away! Rehearsal is only three nights a week right now because there's another production at the same theater, so the more practice the better."

"Wow, only three nights a week?" Jeremy asked, surprised. "Two shows are playing at once?"

She nodded. "Yeah, but it's not for very long; I think their opening night is next Friday, and they close on a Wednesday. Our rehearsal will get bumped up to five nights a week as soon as they're finished. So like I said, I really gotta practice on my own a lot!"

"Well, I mean, I'm not really doing anything after school today, so I could help you practice!" He turned to Michael. "Uh, Michael, what about you? Do you have plans?"

"Yeah, I was gonna go feed squirrels at the park and then help some old ladies cross the street," he said with a smartass grin. "Maybe get in some community service if I have the time, you know, picking up litter and such. So my afternoon's pretty booked."

Jeremy rolled his eyes and shoved him lightly, while Christine snickered. Michael laughed and shoved Jeremy back. "Really, though," he said, "I'm not doing anything. I could definitely help tonight."

"Awesome!" She took back her script and put it back in her bag. Then she pulled out her phone and sent quick a text. Jeremy's phone buzzed, and as he brought it out of his pocket to check it she explained, "I just sent you my address. Oh hey, this'll be your first time over at my house! Michael, you wanna give me your number so I can send it to you too?"

She handed her phone over for Michael to enter his number, then texted him the address. His phone buzzed too, and she sat back happily. It was all set!

"See you guys after school, then! Probably around four or four-thirty would be best." She spied a Kit-Kat hiding in Michael's lunch spread. "Oooh. Hey, Michael, you wanna share that?"

Michael grabbed the candy and started unwrapping it. "As a matter of fact, I don't."

"Awww..." she whined, giving him a begging expression. "Come on, _pleeeease?_ "

"Come on, share with us, Michael!" Jeremy jumped in. "Candy's always better with friends!"

"That's why I'm eating it in front of you guys," Michael smirked, taking a bite out all four Kit-Kat bars at once. She and Jeremy wailed and mourned as Michael chewed, a huge smile on his face.

* * *

 

"So, give us all the details on this show," Jeremy said, once she had finished giving him and Michael a quick tour around her house. They were in the upstairs TV room, lounging on the couches as Christine flipped through her script. "You didn't really say much about it before you got cast, and Michael doesn't know anything about it."

She took a deep breath. "Well, it's about a girl in high school; she's pretty normal, and her single father loves her, but he's kind of distant and hard for her to connect with, and she gets targeted by these other girls who are bullies a lot. They're really terrible to her, and the leader of the bully group is my character, who gets revealed to be a _literal demon_ , with her lackeys being lesser demons. It turns out the protagonist is descended from a long line of demon hunters, who are protectors of humanity and sometimes even work together with angels to stop demons from doing horrible things. The man she thought was her dad was actually an angel who failed to keep her parents from dying on their last fateful mission, so he took on a human form to raise her, but he wasn't the best at it because, you know, he's an angel, he doesn't know how to be a parent. But he protected her all her life, and when the demon-bully tries to attack her he steps in to fight, but together they banish him to a prison deep in Hell and hide his angelic signature so no other angels will know he needs help."

She paused for another deep breath and continued. "The girl manages to escape while they're busy doing all that, and runs away and hides in an abandoned nursing home she used to visit when she was little; she would perform skits for the seniors and do crafts with them, it was a children's group thing, like scouts or something like that. And while she's hiding there she finds an old woman who was there in the home years ago when it was still in use. It turns out that the woman is actually a demon, but she regrets all the things she's done and she wants to go home to Heaven and be an angel like she used to be before she fell from grace. She'd tried for decades to find a way to redeem herself, while avoiding angels and other demons who would attack her at the same time, but nothing she did worked and eventually she just sorta gave up on anything and disguised herself as an elderly woman and stayed in the nursing home, even after it shut down."

She took another breath and pressed on, feeling slightly light-headed. "She remembers the protagonist from when she used to visit as a child, and once she tells her what had happened, she promises to teach the girl how to fight the demons and help her rescue her angel-dad. So they train in fighting and magic, and sometimes they have to sneak out to find supplies to make things like curse-repelling charms and clothes that can protect against Hellfire and knives dipped in a special poison to make them effective against demons. But every night while the girl sleeps, my character, the main demon, enters her dreams and attacks her psychologically. She insults and demeans her and makes horrible threats, and taunts her by talking about how what happened to her angel-dad and real parents was her fault, and tells her they're all being tortured in Hell and there's nothing she can do about it. She _awful._ "

One last, huge breath. "But the girl keeps training, and then, on Christmas Eve, she and the old demon go out to battle; they do it on Christmas because it's a Holy Day and they've both prayed to Heaven for strength and victory. They fight the demons, and they manage to kill all of them except the main one, my character, and then the old demon makes a sacrifice on the battlefield to free the girl's angel-dad from his prison and bring him there at the cost of her own life. The angel-dad helps the girl finally destroy the main demon, and they have a tearful reunion, and go home. He tells her that my character was lying and that her real parents are in Heaven, and she'll see them there someday. She asks him what happened to the old demon who sacrificed herself to rescue him from Hell, and it turns out that she was allowed to become an angel again, and she's decided to take on a human form just like the girl's angel-dad and become her angel-mom! The play ends with them becoming a family, and the girl says that she might want to follow in her parents' footsteps and become a full-on demon hunter, but she thinks she'll wait a while before she decides."  
She finished, a little breathless, and Michael and Jeremy looked at her in awe.

"Wow," Jeremy said, eyes wide.

" _Sick,_ " Michael grinned.

She grinned back at him. "I know, right? It's such a cool play!" She glanced down at the script in her hands and turned to the page with her first lines on them, right at the beginning. "Okay, Jeremy, my first lines in the play are me bullying the main character in the hall at school. I've got the first couple memorized pretty well, so uh, I guess just stand over here with the script and read for the protagonist, and give me my line if I need it, okay? And Michael, um, you just sit here on the couch and watch, alright?"

"Sure thing." Michael stretched out on the couch as Jeremy got up to stand across from her, taking the script and scanning the page quickly. Christine shook herself and planted her feet, imagining herself as a vicious bully, a demon in disguise. _Think mean,_ she told herself. _Channel your inner terrible person._

"I'm ready whenever you are!" she said. Jeremy nodded shifted his grip on the book nervously. "Yeah, same here!" he answered, still glancing down at the lines.

"Alright then," Michael called. "Action!"

Jeremy cleared his throat and began. "I've been thinking about what the guidance counselor said about trying activities together," he said to an imaginary companion. "And my dad might not really get it, but I'm sure he wouldn't say no. I mean, what helps parents and kids bond more than going camping, you know?"

"Wow," Christine drawled, aiming for superiority and distaste in her tone. "Still seeing the guidance counselor. Is it weird being the only kid in school who even knows where that office is?"

Jeremy looked at the script quickly. "Whatever, it's none of your business. Just stop bothering me." he read.

"I hope you're not trying to tell me what to do, sweetheart," she said, putting a hint of threat in her voice. "Because, see, that's now how this works. You're _my_ little toy bitch I get to play with. You don't get to give orders here. That's what _I_ do. And what do _you_ do?"

Another darting glance to the script, and Jeremy replied, "God, please..."

"No gods here, honey. Devils only. Now," she brought in as much ice and steel as she could and said, "Tell me what you do."

"When you say 'swallow' I say 'yes ma'am'," Jeremy answered, a bit of color rising to his face. Christine couldn't blame him; it was a hell of a line.

"There we go," she said, satisfied. "I really shouldn't have to remind you so often. Your idiocy is so tedious. You can go now."

Christine's lines ended at that point, as the protagonist slunk away and the story continued. They were all silent for a moment, before she turned to Michael and asked, "So, how was that? What'd you think?"

"Damn," Michael said. He looked impressed and a little unsettled. "That's some hardcore harassment right there. I know you said your character is a literal demon bully from Hell, but like - wow."

She ducked her head, a little bashful. "Yeah, it's pretty bad. It's definitely not the kind of role I'm used to playing. So, do you think I was, you know - mean enough? Did I have that confidence and cruelty that bullies have?" The questions poured out of her, as she replayed her own performance in her head, searching for ways to improve it. "Do I need to be more sadistic?"

Jeremy coughed. She looked over and saw he had an encouraging smile, standing a little awkwardly. "Um, I thought - I mean, from this end, it was pretty, uh. I think you did it well! There was - passion, and um, you know. It was good!"

"You think so?" she asked eagerly. "There was passion? Because, you know, this character - I'm trying to make it seem like she sees you - your character, the girl - as nothing, like dirt, but at the same time she has to be really intense about making sure the girl never tries to fight her, or even just ignore her. She wants to dominate this girl's entire school experience, and make her _miserable._ So it's a delicate balance, you know? There's disdain for her, and there's focus on her, because she sees her as so far beneath her but at the same time her reactions and her submission to her are important. Does that make sense?" she asked, hoping they were following along.

Thankfully, both boys nodded. "I get what you're saying," Michael said. "Bullies are complex. I mean, they're shallow, stupid assholes, but you know. Their motivations, and what they get out being the worst people ever... all of that. I get you." He put his chin in his hand and looked at the both of them, considering. "I think you did a pretty good job of having a mean tone of voice. The - pacing?" he glanced at her, questioningly, and she nodded. She had wondered about the pacing of how she'd delivered the lines. "The pacing," he continued, "it's probably just because you haven't practiced this for very long, but I think you need to slow down in some places and really enunciate, put emphasis on what you're saying; like - can I see that?" he gestured for Jeremy to hand him the script. He traced a finger down the page until he found what he wanted. "Right here," he said, standing up to show Christine where he was pointing. "When you say, 'No gods here, honey. Devils only,' I think you should say it slowly and really intensely, and then when you say 'Now, tell me what you do,' - which I think you said really well, by the way - it will be super chilling, you know?"

"Yeah," she agreed. "I think you're right. Pacing is so important when you're saying your lines; I mean, obviously every part of what you're doing is important when you're in character, but you know, if there's a list of everything from most to least important, pacing's definitely way up there."

She took the script back from Michael and turned to Jeremy. "Do you want to run through that again, or should we go over some of my other lines?" She had most of her lines in the first act fairly well-memorized so she could do it either way.

"Uh - " Jeremy looked a little distracted, but he shook himself and said, "I can, um. We can run through it again. I think that'd be good." He took a deep breath and blew it out, ruffling the hair that hung over his forehead. She wondered if he thought it was too warm in the room; he seemed a bit sweaty. But he seemed to get sweaty when he was nervous, so maybe he was just worried he wasn't doing a good job of helping her practice.

She smiled encouragingly at him. "Okay, great! Thanks again to both of you for helping me, you're doing great!"

Jeremy looked down, hiding a shy smile and even deeper flush. Oh, he was cute. Her smile widened as she watched him get it back together. Michael made a noise, almost like a squashed laugh, and turned around to sit on the couch again. She glanced at him, then turned back to Jeremy and handed him the script.

"Alright!" she said. "Ready when you are!"

"Action!" Michael called.

* * *

 

They practiced for about forty-five minutes, keeping to the first act since they had decided to focus on delivery rather than memorization. Christine only needed to be reminded of her line a few times, a fact that pleased her greatly. Despite only being a Junior Director, Michael had good insight and was very helpful in helping her figure out which way of saying this or that line worked best. Jeremy had opinions of his own on things like tone and volume, and by the end he hardly needed to look down at the script at all to know what he was supposed to say (unless she needed her line given to her, in which case he would glance at it to make sure he had it right).

"Okay, guys," she said. "I think that's good for today. Thank you both so much! This really helped."

"Sure thing!" Michael got up and stretched, looking over at Jeremy. "I think I'm gonna go home, you wanna come with me? My mom went grocery shopping yesterday so we've got snacks. Still gonna stop at 7/11, though."

"Yeah, I'll come. My dad probably won't be home yet anyway." The small bit of pride he said this with was easy to see; Christine knew he was really happy at how well his dad was doing at his new job, and it made her happy too. Things had really gotten better for Jeremy in a lot of ways since the whole Squip thing had come to a head. She was glad for him.

They hadn't talked about the Squip and everything that had happened in a while. It had been almost a month since the disaster at the school play; people still thought the entire cast, including her and Mr. Reyes, had done ecstasy. She wasn't too happy about what that had done to the way people saw her. It was hard to have conversations about how much she loved acting and wanted to be a professional one day when the people she was gushing to thought she had gotten high on party drugs right before a performance. They judged her, and how real her passion was, and she couldn't tell them the truth because no one would ever believe it.

Sometimes it was hard not to think about what it had been like, having the Squip in her brain. The way she felt, all perfect and bright and confident and invincible and _so sure,_ so sure that everything would turn out how it should because the voice in her head was calling the shots. All she had to do was listen and obey.

And then the pain when Jeremy gave her the Mountain Dew Red, the panic, the splitting migraine that hurt so much she screamed and thought she would die. The nauseous, dizzy, empty feeling when she woke up and was alone in her mind again, the simultaneous freedom and fear, and the shame from realizing how much she had liked the ease and simplicity of obeying the Squip, and the fact that she almost wished she could have it back.

She dragged herself out of her thoughts long enough to walk the boys to the front door and see them off. "Bye, guys!" she waved, putting an easy smile on her face as they got in Michael's car and waved back. She was pretty good at faking smiles; it was one of the perks of being an actor. Jeremy and Michael certainly didn't notice it was anything but genuine.

Once they started down the road and she closed the door, standing alone in the entry hall, her bitter, swirling thoughts came back.

She tried not to be angry at Jeremy. She knew that holding a grudge wouldn't do her any good, wouldn't change what had happened, but - really, who else was there to be angry at? Sure, Jenna had switched the elixir from the play with Squip pills and Mountain Dew, but she wouldn't have if Jeremy hadn't personally given her a Squip in the first place. Rich was the one who had told Jeremy about Squips, true, but even after having a Squip for two years, Rich had never tried to spread them throughout the school. Jeremy's quest for popularity, and for her to date him, was the root cause of everything. There wasn't anyone to blame but him.

She pulled out her phone and texted both Jeremy and Michael, thanking them once again for helping her practice. She didn't feel particularly grateful towards Jeremy now, after sinking into her unhappy musings, but it's like they said: fake it 'til you make it. She would muscle past these leftover hurt feelings eventually. She just had to keep moving forward.

Jeremy texted back a minute later. _No problem, any time! We both had fun helping! :)_

Having nothing else to do except homework, which she didn't really feel like doing, she went to her room and flopped down onto her bed. She scrolled through her phone to distract herself; Jenna had posted a video of Rich cartwheeling in the hall on Snapchat - Michael was right, it was a pretty good cartwheel - and after a while, she started feeling a little better.

Then she got another text, this one from Michael. _Sure, it was nice! We should hang out more, you're pretty cool_

She smiled. Michael was nice, and cool too. They should hang out more often. Maybe she, him, and Jeremy could eat lunch together again tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

Where were they?

She scanned the cafeteria, searching for Jeremy and Michael. Surely they were already sitting down somewhere; she'd gotten caught up in a conversation with Jenna about the Instagram algorithm and was nearly ten minutes late coming to lunch, and then she'd stood in the line for a while before remembering she had brought food from home today. They had to have a table somewhere by now, so where were they?

It was like playing _Where's Waldo_ , except the people in the crowded picture were all moving around and she didn't even have the advantage of a bird's eye view.

They weren't over by the vending machines... they weren't in front of the student store... they weren't next to the trash cans... not in this area, not in that area, not anywhere! The boys were nowhere to be found!

Oh, there was Michael.

She made her way towards him, wondering in the back of her mind what it said about her observational skills that she had managed to miss his distinctive red hoodie. "Hey, Michael!" she called out as she came near his table. He had his headphones on and was looking down at his phone though, and Jeremy wasn't with him. She wiggled her hand in front of his face until he noticed and looked up, pulling his headphones and hood off once he saw her.

She grinned. "Mind if I sit here?"

"Go right ahead," he grinned back. "How you been?"

She sat down and pulled her lunch out of her backpack. "I'm good! Science isn't, though." She made a face. "Apparently we're going to be dissecting sheep hearts next week."

"Ooh, the sheep hearts! The AP Science class did that last semester, it was so cool!" Michael took a bite of his curry. "You're not looking forward to it, though?"

"Can't say that I am," she sighed, playing with the aluminum foil from her turkey leg. "It's not really that it grosses me out - I mean it does, in a way, but it's not because we're dissecting animal parts. It's that we're dissecting a _heart._ That's just kinda... I mean, you know? I just don't like the idea."

Michael nodded. "Yeah, I can understand that. Are you gonna opt out of it?"

"No, I'm just gonna deal with it. But why couldn't it be a liver or a lung or something?" she complained. "An organ without all the..." she waved her hands vaguely. "Emotional... significance... or whatever. You know? Just anything except the heart! Or the brain. That'd be weird too."

Shaking his head at her minor dramatics, Michael replied, "You know, Christine, I bet they decided on a heart specifically to bother you. The whole school board got together and asked, 'Which organ will make Christine Canigula the most uncomfortable to dissect in Science class? Any ideas?' And then someone said, 'Oh, I know! A heart! That will annoy her for sure, because hearts have emotional significance or whatever!' And the first guy said, 'Brilliant! A heart it is! Here, have a raise! We don't need new textbooks or classroom equipment. Take a vacation as well, you sexy genius.'"

She was doubled over nearly speechless from laughter by the time he finished, so he smirked and took advantage of her helplessness to add, "I bet that second guy's name was Michael. It just sounds like the kind of name a sexy genius would have."

"Oh... oh my _God,_ Michael," she gasped, still giggling. "Those _voices_... oh man."

He bowed as much as he could while sitting down. "Glad you enjoyed."

She took a long sip of lemonade from her water bottle, still smiling widely. They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, enjoying each others company.

After a while, she asked, "So, is Jeremy in the bathroom, or...?"

Michael shook his head. "He's not here today, actually. He had a doctor's appointment in the morning, and his dad took off work the rest of the day so they could do stuff. Father-son bonding." He laughed a little. "What's that like, is it any good?"

She laughed too. "I think it's pretty nice," she said.

He shrugged. "Guess I'll have to take you and Jeremy's word for it."

They fell into silence again, but this time Christine noticed there was a sort of tenseness to it. Michael stared down at his lunch, one hand picking at his sleeve.

"Things between him and his dad have gotten a lot better," he said after a while. "I'm glad life is... improving for him."

"Yeah," she said. "Um... you okay? You just... seem a little down, all of a sudden."

He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said. "Just... thinking. About Jeremy. You know."

"Yeah," she murmured, almost to herself. "I know."

Michael was quiet for a minute. "He likes you," he said.

Christine glanced up at him. "Uh... yeah, he's made that pretty clear." She laughed awkwardly. Yes, Jeremy had made his crush on her _abundantly_ clear, and not really in the best way. Why was Michael bringing this up?

"Sorry," he said, looking away. "I was just, uh. Thinking about yesterday, when we were helping you practice."

"What about it?" she asked.

"I mean..." he hesitated. Then, slowly, he continued, "I could tell... when you were reading your lines to him, and saying all those things, and being mean... he was into it."

She blinked. Then she stared at him blankly. She turned his words over and over in her mind, before saying, "What?"

"God, this is awkward," he winced. "I shouldn't have said anything, I'm sorry."

"What do you mean, he was 'into it'? Like..." she lowered her voice. "He was getting off on it?"

He winced even more. "Well... that's kind of harsh phrasing... I just meant that I could see he thought that you bossing him around and insulting him was... attractive. It's not gross or creepy, really, I mean, lots of guys like that sort of thing! Uh..." he looked down at his food again. "I'm not helping his case," he mumbled.

She sat back, still taking the whole idea in. "He was attracted to me being mean to him," she said.

Michael peeked up. "You really didn't see it at all?"

"What was I supposed to see?" she asked incredulously. Then the world's most unfortunate and awkward thought occurred to her. "Did he have a boner?!"

"No!" Michael shook his head, looking half-panicked. "No, no he didn't! I swear he didn't."

"Would you tell me if he actually did?" she asked suspiciously.

"No," he admitted. "But really, he didn't. I just meant that he was... you know, all nervous and kinda sweaty, and blushing a lot. You didn't notice the blushing?"

"No, I saw it," she said. "I just didn't it was because of _that._ "

"Well... what about the fact that he kept wanting to go over any part where you called him a bitch?"

She thought back to yesterday, and her eyes widened. "Oh my God, you're right."

He shrugged apologetically. "Yeah. Listen, I'm really sorry if I made you uncomfortable talking about this, and please don't tell Jeremy, okay?"

"I won't, it's okay," she promised. "And..." she toyed with the turkey bone, which was now completely clean of any meat. "It's okay that you told me. I think..." she felt heat rise in her face. She couldn't believe she was about to say this. "I think I kind of... don't hate that idea. That he's into me bossing him around."

Michael looked at her, considering.

"I mean," she drummed her fingers on the table, suddenly full of nervous energy. "I do like him, in that way. Romantically, I mean," she added quickly. "Not sexually - I mean I don't know - I haven't really - " She forced herself to take a breath and slow down. "I think Jeremy's cute and nice," she said. "I like him. I can see myself being in a relationship with him; maybe not right this minute, but, you know. I think I'd like to date him, maybe. So I'm just saying that I don't hate the idea of him being attracted to me... or to things I do. You know?" She really hoped he knew. If she had to go into more detail about her feelings towards Jeremy than she already had, she might just combust right there in the cafeteria. Oh God, she hoped no one was listening in on this.

Michael didn't say anything for a while, playing with his food as he apparently became lost in thought. Christine wondered if she could shove her turkey bone straight into her brain and erase the memory of this conversation.

Then Michael said, "I feel the same way you do about him."

She tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." he sighed. "I like Jeremy too. As a friend, obviously, he's my best friend, but also... romantically. And I feel the same way you do. I could see myself dating him, sometime in the near future."

"Oh," she said. She wasn't really sure how to reply; no one had ever confessed their love for another person to her before. "Has he... ever shown any interest in you? Romantically?" She immediately felt dumb for asking. Surely, if Jeremy had shown interest in Michael before they'd be dating now, right? They were already such close friends and knew each other so well; if they both liked each other they wouldn't have hesitated to start dating.

"Well... it's complicated." Michael fiddled with the cord to his headphones. "We've... kissed. Twice. And we weren't even high or anything. But we never really said or did anything about it, and it was kind of a while ago, so... I don't know. I can't help but think he's not entirely straight, but even if he's not, it doesn't mean he likes me." He sighed, one hand coming up to trace the edge of his rainbow patch. "It's just a lot."

"Sounds like it," she sympathized. _Come on, Jeremy,_ she thought to herself. _Why do you have to make things so difficult for other people?_

"Not that he even really deserves to have me like him," Michael said, suddenly sounding bitter. "After all the shit he caused? I don't know why I still like him at all. I know he apologized and everything, but - shit, an apology's not much when you look at the damage, is it?"

Christine had to agree with him. Saying sorry and working to make amends was important, and to Jeremy's credit he was doing just that, but Michael was right. No matter what Jeremy did to try and fix things, when his efforts were held up against all of the harm he had caused, it rang hollow.

"I haven't forgiven him," Michael continued. He seemed to be on a roll, the words spilling out of him. "I've accepted all his apologies because I know he really means them, but I haven't forgiven him. How am I supposed to forgive him? I don't even know how! How do you forgive someone for abandoning you as a friend completely because the supercomputer pill he took to tell him how to be popular told him to drop you?" He was almost asking her for an answer now; as if she had one to give. "How am I supposed to move on and feel better about all of this? I feel like there's still stuff I haven't said to him but I can't say it now because it's been almost a month and he's trying so hard for us both to just move on but I can't move on! I can't move on because I haven't forgiven him yet! And I don't know when I will! Everything fucking sucks!"

He grabbed his hood and yanked it down over his head, hunching his shoulders and burying his face in his hands. "Everything fucking sucks," he said again.

He was angry. Hurt. Upset. Just like her. But what was she supposed to say? She wanted to say _something, anything_ to make him feel better, but she didn't even know how to make herself feel better, much less someone else. But she had to try, right? She racked her brain, searching for words of comfort or wisdom.

She didn't find anything, and the silence was stretching on, and Michael was curling into himself so tightly he looked like he might snap. She thought harder, almost desperate.

"Do you think the Squip is why?" she asked, only half-aware of her own thought. She wasn't even sure what she was suggesting, but it got Michael to glance up.

"The Squip is why what?"

"Why he - why Jeremy - " she waved her hands, frustrated, trying to complete the idea that was forming in her head. "Why at our practice he liked it. You said he was into it when I was mean to him; do you think the Squip is why?"

Michael sat up slowly, some of the angry tension fading away. "Uh... he liked you before he had the Squip. I don't really know what you're saying."

"No, I mean - " she huffed, irritated at herself. Taking a breath, she continued, slowly, giving herself time to think between words. "Do you think having the Squip in his head, telling him what to do and being in control of everything, is why he thought it was hot when I was saying those lines to him? He said that the Squip would tell him he was gross and ugly and lame, and that he had to obey it so that he wouldn't be anymore. Do you think he got used to being insulted and ordered around, and then I when I did it to him in practice he was into it because he has a crush on me?"

She had no idea what had brought her to this line of thinking, and the whole concept seemed even weirder now that she had said it out loud. Michael looked interested, though, brow furrowed as he considered her newborn theory.

"You think that, because of the Squip, Jeremy likes being told what to do now? And likes it when people he's attracted to are mean to him?" He didn't sound like he rejected the notion, but he didn't sound entirely convinced either. Christine supposed she might as well keep running with this; it had pulled him out of his hurt feelings, after all, which had been the goal in the first place.

"Yeah, something like that. Rich told me a while ago that he's been reading about... trauma... and that kind of thing, and..." She chewed her lip, not really sure how to convey the information in a non-awkward way. "He said that sometimes... when bad things happen, people will... fetishize it. He explained it to me like, if someone was almost strangled to death, they might end up liking to choke people or to have someone choke them in bed. He said it's a way of coping."

Michael nodded slowly, beginning to understand. "So you think that maybe... Jeremy is fetishizing people being awful towards him as a way of dealing with how the Squip was awful to him?"

She shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know. I mean - did he like that sort of thing before?"

"I really don't know," he said. "We were close, but... we didn't really talk about _that._ "

"Right," she said, looking away awkwardly. God, this was such a weird thing to be talking about.

"I guess if that's how he's dealing with everything... good for him?" Michael looked to be feeling as awkward as she did. "I mean. We all have to cope some way."

"How are you coping?" she asked. She regretted it pretty quickly. That was a personal question! Were you even allowed to ask someone how they were coping if you weren't their therapist or something?

Michael looked down at the table for a few seconds. "I don't know," he said quietly. "I don't know how I'm coping. I don't know if I am at all. It feels like I'm just trying to do things normally again, but it's only working a little bit. It's all just... surface-level healing."

He sounded like he was quoting that last bit from a book or an article. Maybe Rich wasn't the only one who'd done some reading.

"I feel like that, too," she admitted. "I just try to focus on normal, everyday life, and go on like everything's fine, and... having a steady day-to-day rhythm helps some, but I'm not really feeling any better. I feel sad a lot. And angry a lot. I'm angry at Jeremy." She played with the hem of her skirt. "I haven't really forgiven him either."

"Looks like we're in the same boat, huh?" Michael sighed.

"Looks like it."

They sat quietly, both lost in their own thoughts and feelings. Christine looked back on their practice session yesterday; now that she had Michael's insight, Jeremy's reaction to her lines seemed much more obvious. She thought about the things she had said to him, half reviewing her own performance and half reliving it.

 _You're_ my _little bitch toy I get to play with._

 _You don't get to give the orders here. That's what_ I _do._

_Your idiocy is so tedious._

"You know," she said suddenly, "it was kind of cathartic."

Michael looked over at her. "What was?"

"When we were practicing, and I was insulting and saying all the mean things to Jeremy. Now that I think about it, it was sort of... it helped. It felt good. It made me feel better. Like I was getting to vent at him."

"Yeah?" Michael asked. "That makes sense. I vented at him some about this whole thing after he got out of the hospital, but... it was so soon after, and he kept saying how sorry he was, we just... both got really emotional and I didn't really get to finish. And ever since then I keep thinking about all the things I didn't say, and I can't say them now because we're trying to get back to normal and it would mess everything up again." He tugged on his headphone cord. "I'm glad you're getting to vent some. Even if it's just through saying your lines."

She tapped her fingers, thinking. "Would you - " she started. Then she stopped, uncertain.

"What?" Michael asked.

"Would you... want to try it too? Venting at Jeremy by saying my lines?" She felt a little silly for asking, but she wanted to help Michael feel better, even just a little bit. If it worked for her, maybe it would work for him.

He blinked. "I mean... they're your lines. Why would I be saying them when we practice? I'm supposed to be the Junior Director."

"Well... we could say it's because I want to see it from the audience perspective. Or that I want to see how someone else who thinks differently might deliver the lines in a different way. Or that you just think it looks like fun and you want to try it." Michael looked like he was on the fence, but warming up to the idea. "Honestly," she said, almost surprising herself with the sudden bitterness in her tone, "it's the least he could do. For both of us."

Michael glanced at her, questioning. "The least he could do?"

"Yeah," she continued. "Like you said, after all the shit he's caused. Letting us work out some anger by reading mean dialogue at him is the least he could do. And he likes it. So it's a win-win."

Michael thought for a while, one hand loosely gripping the edge of his hood. He nodded. "You know, you're right. I think I wanna try it. It can't hurt."

As soon as he said it, the bell rang. People started packing up their bags and heading for class, and the two of them cleaned off their table in silent agreement. The three of them had already made plans to practice at Christine's house again on Friday, which was tomorrow. So tomorrow, Michael would have a turn playing the bad guy.

 _Jeremy deserves it. He even likes it,_ she told herself. She ignored the small, bad feeling in her stomach. _Michael and I both need to vent. It can't hurt._


	3. Chapter 3

The clock said 9:24. That couldn't possibly be right, could it? She'd been sitting here for absolute ages, it had to be later than that. But apparently it wasn't, because the clock said 9:24 and so did her phone and everyone else in class was doing their worksheet and chatting with their friends as if time wasn't moving so slowly today it hurt.

She looked again. 9:24. She put her head down on the desk with a thud.

"I feel you," Rich said beside her. "This is _so_ boring. Who gives a shit about the Great Depression? Such a downer. We all already know about it anyway."

"Yeah," she said. tearing her eyes away from the clock. She'd only really registered 'shit' and 'already know about it' but whatever Rich had said she probably agreed with.

"They don't even teach us about the cool stuff," he went on. "Like gangsters. Or samurai. We should learn about samurai."

She blinked. Samurai? "There weren't any samurai in the Great Depression."

"There were in Japan. Not everything happens in America, you know," he mock-lectured.

She rolled her eyes, picking up her pencil to start working on the handout. Then she remembered that she had already finished it. She scanned it anyway, looking for obvious errors or misspellings, but nothing jumped out. Rich looked over, trying to see her answers. She pulled the paper away and raised her eyebrow at him.

"Please?" he begged. "I don't wanna do it. I'll give you some gum, do you want gum?"

"I mostly want this class to be over, but yeah, I'll take some gum." She slid the sheet over to him. "Wait, what kind?"

"Spearmint," he said, already starting to copy her answers. "It's in the front pocket of my backpack."

She retrieved the gum and leaned back in her chair, eyes drifting back to the clock. 9:26. She was going to grow old and die in this classroom.

Rich filled in his paper quickly. "So are you and Jeremy and Michael hanging out more?"

"What?" She looked over at him. He had his tongue poked out of his mouth in concentration as he wrote. After a second he replied, "Are you and Jeremy and Michael hanging out more? I've heard you guys eat lunch together some now."

"Oh. Uh, yeah, we eat together some. And they've both been helping me practice my lines for the play I'm in." She bounced her leg, trying not to glance at the clock again. That was exactly why she was so impatient today; Michael was going to try saying her lines when they came over after school today, and she was... not anxious, really, and not excited, that was too happy a word. She was just... ready to do it now. Ready was a good word. That's what she was, she was ready. Michael was probably ready too.

Unfortunately, the human construct of time wasn't, and wouldn't be for another five hours and forty-nine minutes. Which sucked.

She suddenly became aware that Rich had said something, and was still saying something.

"...still think it's so cool you're playing a demon. Also, I know I already said this, but I'm totally gonna be there to watch you. Thanks for the answers." He pushed her paper back.

"You're welcome, and thanks! It's a really great show." She took the worksheet back and glanced back at the clock. 9:27. "So now that we're both done, do you think you could distract me from this soul-crushing boredom? Literally anything might help."

"I can certainly try!" he grinned. "I have a fidget spinner in my backpack if you want it. Yes, really," he said before she could even open her mouth.

She smiled. "I'll pass for now. I've got a pen." She dug it out of her pencil back and clicked it a few times to show him.

"To each their own," he shrugged, stretching his arms out lazily. "Hmm, what to talk about..." He thought for a while. Christine clicked her pen and determinedly did not look at the clock.

"Oh!" Rich said suddenly. "You remember that book I was telling you about the other day? The one about psychology? I can talk about that!"

"Sure, sounds great!" she said. Rich had become interested in psychology and the brain recently, and Christine was one of his favorite people to ramble about it to.

"Okay, um, I'm on chapter six right now," he began, excited. "And it's way cooler than chapter nine - I'm reading it out of order - it's all about how different parts of the brain light up and get active when people do different things, like exercising or doing math or listening to music. And like recognizing people's faces! Did you know you can actually lose the ability to recognize people's faces? Even people you've known all your life! It's called prosopagnesia. Or prosopagnosia. It's one of those. Wouldn't that suck to have? I mean, I guess it might kinda help if there was someone you never wanted to see again because even if you saw them you wouldn't know it. It happens when people take damage to their temporal lobes in their brain; those are the ones right under your temples. Brains are so cool and complicated." He glanced over at her. "How's this, am I boring you?"

"No, this is cool!" She gestured for him to keep going.

He happily obliged. "Okay, remember what I told you chapter eight was about?"

She thought back. "Uhh... oh, was it the one about PTSD?"

Rich nodded. "Yeah. All about how PTSD literally changes the way people's brains work, and that's why it's so stupid and pointless to say that people should just get over having really terrible experiences, because they _can't_ get over it, because their brain is different now. It's really, uh." He shifted in his seat, a bit awkward. "It's helpful. To read about. You know."

"Yeah," she said. Rich had confessed that reading about this particular subject, and learning about psychology in general, made him feel a little better about the whole Squip thing he had gone through. Having more knowledge about brain-related things meant having more feelings of control because he understood what his brain was doing, he'd basically said. It made a lot of sense.

He cleared his throat. "Anyway," he went on, "the part of the brain that's affected the most by trauma is the hippocampus. When people get PTSD their hippocampus actually _shrinks_ in volume. And the hippocampus is the part of the brain that works with memory, so that's why people with PTSD can be triggered by things that are even just a little bit similar to whatever traumatic experience they had. When the hippocampus shrinks people lose their ability to discriminate between past and present experiences and interpret the context of their environment. Like, war veterans can have flashbacks and stuff when they watch violent movies because it reminds them of when they were in combat. You know?"

She nodded. Then she remembered what Rich had talked a little bit about a week or so ago when he'd been reading a different psychology book. She hesitated, wondering if it was a good idea to ask about what she was thinking. She quickly decided, and said, "I remember you told me a while ago about some of the different ways people deal with trauma after it happens. Didn't you say one of the things people do sometimes is, like." She lowered her voice and leaned in closer. "They sexualize it in their heads? And it can turn into a fetish or something?"

Rich looked at her oddly. "Uh, yeah, that can happen sometimes. I don't really know anything about it. It was just one of the things on a list of common responses to trauma. Why are you curious?"

She sat back quickly, trying to look casual and not weird. "I just... don't really get it, I guess. It's so strange to think about. Like, why would that be something that happens? You wouldn't think it makes sense, but it a common response, apparently! Brains are so complex, you know?" She gave an awkward laugh.

Rich shrugged. "I mean, like I said, I don't really know anything about it. Reading a few psychology books definitely isn't enough to make me an expert, that's for sure."

She was about to agree when the teacher called out. "Please bring me your worksheets, and take the chapter review packet home to work on over the weekend. It's due on Monday, and our next quiz is on Wednesday, so be studying!"

They all got up and crowded around the teacher's desk, handing over their papers and walking back to their seats with the review. Some began working on it, getting a head start, but most pulled out their phones or continued their conversations with friends as they waited for the bell to ring. Christine looked over at the clock. 9:40.

She tried to get the first few questions answered, but once again, all she could think about was their practice session after school. What if it wasn't cathartic for Michael like it was for her, and he thought she was weird and mean for thinking it helped a little? What if he told Jeremy that Christine was secretly venting at him through her play dialogue like a coward? What if Michael couldn't remember the lines and just got frustrated and felt worse? What if he was hilariously bad at delivering them and she or Jeremy laughed at him by accident and _that_ made him frustrated and feel worse? What if it broke up his and Jeremy's slowly-healing friendship they were both working so hard to fix? What if -

"Can you stop clicking your pen, please?" the girl behind her asked. "Sorry, it's kind of distracting."

"Oh! Sure, no problem. Sorry for distracting you, I'll put it away." The girl thanked her and Christine sat there, empty hands fidgeting, eyes fixed on the clock with thoughts of 'what if' still running rampant through her mind.

Finally, the bell rang, and even though she knew all she had to look forward to was another class, Christine was the first one out the door.

* * *

 

Somehow lunchtime arrived before she had turned into a dusty, crumbling skeleton in a nice school outfit. She walked quickly to the cafeteria, still lost in thought. This caused her to bump into a few people, one of whom nearly fell over, and she apologized profusely each time, feeling more than a little silly. She stood in the lunch line and picked what she wanted without really paying attention, which resulted in her getting a hamburger instead of a chicken sandwich. She didn't really mind though, so she paid and sat down at the nearest free table by the line, hoping Michael and Jeremy would spot her easily.

Soon enough, Michael walked up and sat down across from her, smiling. "Hey!"

"Hey!" she said back, sitting up and smiling back at him. She gestured at his lunch. "What're you eating today?"

"It's leftover beef stir-fry today," he answered, opening up the Tupperware container. "I see you're eating cow as well."

"I was aiming for a chicken sandwich but somehow I missed," she shrugged. "But hamburger's good too, so I'm not complaining."

"It's a good meat," Michael agreed. "Have you ever eaten beef from one of those special cows that get massages and drink beer all their lives before they're slaughtered?"

She shook her head. "Can't say that I have. I've heard about it, though. It's weird to think about giving cows beer. Like, is it even ethical? They're animals, they can't really consent to drinking alcohol, can they? I mean, if someone gave their dog or cat beer you'd think that was wrong, right? I would, at least."

Michael swallowed his mouthful of stir-fry. "I don't know. I guess it is pretty weird. And expensive, I bet. But if I had the chance to eat beef from a cow like that I'd definitely do it. It's supposed to taste really good."

"Yeah." She took a bite from her own beef-centric meal. It was fairly mediocre but passable for a school lunch. "So is Jeremy in line?"

"Uh-huh," he said, twirling his fork around. "Listen, I haven't really told him about how I'm gonna try reading your lines today, so, uh," he looked almost embarrassed. "Can you bring it up and make it sound more like your idea? I mean, it was your idea, but just... you know?"

"Sure," she said. Trying to bring a sense of humor to the table, she joked, "Are you afraid if Jeremy thinks you're really interested in theater he'll make you try out for the next school play? Or start playing Broadway show tunes in the car when you're driving?"

Michael laughed. "He already does that last one, as much as I let him. I'm definitely not trying out for any plays, though. Not my style."

"Maybe you could join an interpretive dance troupe," she suggested with a grin. "Ooh, you and Rich both!"

He doubled over laughing, and she laughed along with him. They were still giggling when Jeremy came up with his tray.

"Hey! What're you guys laughing about?" he asked, sitting down beside Michael.

"The idea of Michael and Rich in an interpretive dance troupe together," she said casually. She broke out into laughter again at the confused, delighted, and weirded-out look on Jeremy's face.

"How did _that_ come up? Not that they wouldn't be amazing, I'm sure they would be."

Michael rolled his eyes. "We were just talking about things I'll never do. Interpretive dance and performing in a play were the two main ones."

"I keep telling him how fun and rewarding it is," Jeremy told her. "But he insists acting isn't for him, even though I think he'd be really good at it. I already know what he'd be type-casted as if he became an actor."

"Yeah? What's that?" she asked curiously. Michael looked interested too.

He looked at Michael and smiled softly. "The protagonist's loyal best friend," he said sweetly, leaning his head on Michael's shoulder.

This time Christine was the one to double over in laughter, while Michael shoved Jeremy off playfully. "Yeah, sure, _you're_ the protagonist," he said sarcastically while Jeremy pouted. "Don't pretend we're not both background characters."

"Background characters are still important," she said. "The stage would be so empty without them!"

"Aw, that's sweet, Christine," Jeremy said, smiling at her. "You're right."

She smiled back, feeling something soft and fluttery in her chest. "Actually, on the subject of Michael and acting, we were talking the other day, when you were out of school with your dad, and I had an idea."

"What is it?" Jeremy asked, tilting his head.

"Well," she said, searching for the best words, "everyone has a different approach to acting, and you can almost always learn from watching how someone else does things. Even absolute beginners can have ideas and methods that work really well. So I thought it would be a good idea for Michael to try reading some of my lines while we practice today. That way, I'll be able to hear my lines being said by someone else and get a better understanding of how they sound, and I might be able to learn from how Michael approaches the whole thing. His cadence, his volume, which words he emphasizes, all of that. I asked if he wanted to try it and he said sure! So we're gonna do it like that today. Does that sound good to you?"

Jeremy looked surprised, then pleased. "Oh, sure! That'll be fun! Michael, maybe you'll discover a love for acting after all." He grinned, then seemed to falter a bit. "You're gonna be saying Christine's characters lines? And I'll still be reading for the protagonist?"

Michael nodded. "Yeah, Christine's gonna try and learn something from me, somehow."

"Okay! I think that'll be cool." Jeremy's grin was back, but when she looked closely she could see what looked like a bit of uncertainty in his expression. She wondered if Michael saw it too. She wondered if it meant what she thought it might mean.

They ate the rest of their lunch with no more talk of their upcoming practice session, instead chatting about simple, mild subjects until the bell rang and they packed up to go back to class.

"Alright, I'll see you guys at four!" she said as she cleared her place and shrugged her backpack on.

"Yeah, see you!" Jeremy said. "Oh, but we might cut it a little short? Michael's gonna spend the night and Saturday at my house and we wanna get most of our homework done so we don't have to worry about it over the weekend. Is that alright?"

"Sure, that's fine! See ya!" She set off down the hall, waving at the boys as they drifted away in the crowd of moving students, Michael already putting his headphones on.

They waved back and were soon swallowed by the sea that was the student body moving at a zombie-like shuffle to their next classes. She took a deep breath and joined the march, ready to face the remaining hours of the school day despite her impatience for it to finally end. She caught a glance at the clock in the hallway. 12:44, it read.

 _Two hours and thirty-one minutes,_ she thought. _Just two hours and thirty-one minutes._

* * *

 

Two hours and thirty-one minutes passed, and the bell rang to alert the occupants of Middleborough High School that the school week was over and the weekend was here. After that another forty minutes passed, by the end of which Michael and Jeremy had pulled up in her driveway, knocked on her front door, stepped inside her house, and come upstairs, ready to help her practice.

They took their places from the previous rehearsal, with Michael and Christine's positions switched; she sat on the couch as the Director (as opposed to Michael's Junior Director status), and Michael stood across from Jeremy, the script in his hands, turned to a page near the end of act one. It was the last part they had practiced on Wednesday, so Christine figured it'd be best to start there.

"Just start with the first highlighted section and read until you're ready to stop," she told him. "Jeremy, you've got your part down?"

He nodded. "Ready whenever you are, Michael," he said encouragingly.

Michael looked down at the script and took a deep breath, still scanning the page. His fingers tapped against the book nervously and he rocked back and forth on his heels as he read the lines over.

"Don't forget to emote!" she called out. "Just try and feel what you think the character is feeling, and then put that feeling into the dialogue." Michael looked her in the eyes, and she looked back. Silent understanding and agreement passed between them, and Christine ignored the tiny bit of discomfort that twisted her gut. Michael looked at Jeremy, rolled his shoulders, planted his feet, and went for it.

"You pathetic little pussy," he sneered. "I'm going to rip off that ugly, acne-riddled skin of yours and feed it to you."


	4. Chapter 4

"Don't touch me," Jeremy read in a fearful voice. "I swear to God, I swear - if you touch me, I'll tell! I'll tell someone! Stay away!"

"How many times do I have to say it?" Michael paused to quickly look at the script before whipping his head back up, twisting his features in an impressive fake snarl. "No gods! Just me! You can consider _me_ your god, worthless. And you know what? I feel a little _divine punishment_ is in order after this stunt of yours." Another darting glance down and he continued. "How about a night tied up in a dumpster after we finish beating the shit out of you? You'd be right at home in there. And it's garbage day too, what a coincidence! Oh, don't wet yourself, I'm sure someone will see you before they turn the crusher on. Not that it'd be much of a loss if they didn't..."

Michael trailed off, ending the small diatribe with a tinge of uncertainty. He looked between Jeremy and Christine, clearly a bit awkward in the face of their silent observation. "Uh," he said after a moment. "So...?"

Christine blinked and straightened up, clapping enthusiastically as a wide smile stretched across her face. "Michael!" she squealed. "That was great! You did so great!"

Michael ducked his head, hiding a smile of his own. "Well, I don't know about great," he laughed. "But thanks, I'm glad you think I did well." He turned to Jeremy. "What'd you think?"

"No, you really were great!" Jeremy looked over the moon to see Michael giving the art of theater a try, excitement written all over his face. Christine couldn't keep her smile from softening at the sight.

Michael groaned, though he didn't stop grinning even as he rolled his eyes. "Come on, it wasn't all that."

"Yes it was!" she insisted, leaning forward on the couch. "Michael, you really got into it. I could tell! You took my advice and you tapped into the character's emotions! You brought some anger and disgust into the performance, it wasn't all stiff and forced like how a lot of inexperienced actors tend to be. Seriously, Michael! Nice!"

He buried his face in his hands at her gushing praise. "Come on," he whined again, though the happiness in his voice was obvious.

Jeremy laughed, stepping closer. "Are we embarrassing you?" he teased.

"No," came Michael's slightly muffled response. "I'm just dabbing." He dabbed. "See?"

Both she and Jeremy burst into giggles, and Michael joined in a second later, raising his head back up and grinning openly. They eventually composed themselves - after more than one failed attempt - and Christine cleared her throat.

"Okay," she said to Michael. "So, do you want to try reading another section? What do you think?"

Michael nodded. "Yeah. Uh, maybe I could try that part at the beginning...? Your first lines in the whole play?"

He seemed suddenly a bit more serious, though not enough that Jeremy noticed. The entire point of this little exercise came back to the forefront of her mind, and she sobered a bit too. They looked at each other knowingly for a moment before she turned to Jeremy, carefully keeping her expression relaxed and positive.

"Do you remember your lines from that section?" she asked.

Jeremy huffed a laugh, running a hand through his hair with a hint of awkwardness. "How could I forget lines like that?" he grinned, voice a touch too wobbly to be casual. He cleared his throat and straightened up looked at Michael. "I'm ready whenever you are, man."

Michael flipped to the beginning of the script, and she drummed her fingers on her knees, anticipatory energy flooding her system once more. This was one of the parts Jeremy had... reacted to, last time, when it had been her saying it. What would he do now that it was Michael? Would he react in the same way, or would it not affect him at all this time? She didn't know which one Michael was hoping for. She didn't even know which possibility _she_ was hoping for. A not-insignificant part of her wanted to call it off, ask to take over rehearsal again or to have Michael say some other, less explicit line so that they would never know. But she stayed quiet as Michael found the page he was searching for and took a deep breath, nodding at her and Jeremy.

"Action," she said.

"I've been thinking about what the guidance counselor said about trying activities together," Jeremy recited. "And my dad might not really get it, but I'm sure he wouldn't say no. I mean, what helps parents and kids bond more than going camping, you know?"

"Wow," Michael scoffed, putting an annoyed look on his face. "Still seeing the guidance counselor. Is it weird being the only kid in school who even knows where that office is?"

Jeremy shifted slightly, his hands fidgeting down at his sides. "Whatever, it's none of your business. Just stop bothering me."

"I hope you're not trying to tell me what to do, _sweetheart._ " Michael emphasized the pet name, voice dripping with disdain. "Because see, that's now how this works. You're _my_ little _toy bitch_ I get to play with. _You_ don't get to give orders here. That's what _I_ do. And what do _you_ do?"

Jeremy swallowed noticeably and she leaned forward, watching as his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. "God, please..." he whimpered.

It was fake, she knew it was fake, but she felt her stomach tighten anyway. She didn't take her eyes off the scene in front of her, not even to blink.  
"No gods here, honey," Michael continued, sounding rougher by the second. " _Devils only._ Now tell me what you do."

"When you say 'swallow'... I say 'yes ma'am'." Jeremy's tongue darted out to lick his lips, and Christine's heart pounded at the sight. This was definitely not what she had thought would happen.

"There we go," Michael finished. He was a little too tense and quick about the last few lines. "I really shouldn't have to remind you so often. Your idiocy is so tedious. You can go now."

Michael lowered the script, holding it down and in front of himself limply. They all stood - or in her case, sat - for a while, no one saying anything. It was quickly becoming awkward; she forced herself to relax and put on a bright smile.

"Great job again, Michael! I think you, uh, had a really good take on this scene. Um, I noticed you put emphasis on certain parts that I didn't, which, you know, that's interesting! And helpful, so, thanks! Jeremy, what did you think?"

The tension in the room began to fade as she rambled, and both boys seemed to come back to themselves. Michael smiled as well, convincingly, and Jeremy laughed only a little too loud.

"I think you did awesome!" he said. His compliments, though a bit unsteady, were genuine. "I know you're not all that interested in acting, but I really think you've got skill, dude! Like, seriously! That was a great little performance!"

She clapped her hands together. "Absolutely!" She agreed. "Uh, so, I know we haven't really done much, but since you guys are gonna leave here pretty soon, do we wanna just stop here? We can go downstairs and just hang out for a while! We've got snacks if you want!" She hoped they did want, because she wanted to get out of the room. The air was still too heavy for her comfort.

Thankfully they both nodded eagerly, so the three of them quickly tromped downstairs and gathered in her kitchen. Michael pulled out his phone, and she was about to search the pantry for snacks to offer when Jeremy cleared his throat.

"Sorry, um, can I use your bathroom?" He asked. "I mean not _yours,_ not _your_ bathroom, just, you know, _a_ bathroom, like a guest bathroom. If you have one." He clearly regretted every word he'd just said. She found herself fighting a fond smile.

"It's down past the living room on the right," she told him, pointing. He nodded, and quietly slipped away.

She turned back to the pantry but didn't open it. She just stood in front of the door, staring off into space and thinking about what had just happened. Even recalling it made her flush slightly. _Why?_ Jeremy was the one having reactions to the script! Not her! This was so embarrassing... God, the tension in that room had been so thick they could have swum in it. Were they ever going to want to help her practice again?

"So," Michael said. "That was... something."

She sighed, leaning against the pantry door as she fixed him with a dry, tired look. "That's an understatement."

He laughed, sounding tired himself. "Maybe that wasn't the best idea," he said. "But..." He raised his head to look at her, somehow looking guilty and unrepentant all at once. "I'd do it again."

She blinked. "You would?"

He nodded. "It was cathartic, like you said. Saying those things to him but not having to... face the consequences, I guess." He ran a hand through his hair. "The consequences of threatening to beat up your friend and feed him his own skin. Those lines are fucking something else."

"Yeah," she agreed. "So, you really want to do this again? I mean... it got kind of... tense." She tried not to awkwardly fidget as she said it, pushing away residual embarrassment.

"That it did," Michael muttered wryly. "But yeah. I'd do it again. You're gonna be doing it again, aren't you? I mean, they're your lines." Suddenly he looked nervous. "Uh... you're not... do you...?"

She looked at him, trying to figure out what he was trying to ask. "What?"

"Just..." He rubbed his eyes and sighed. "Look, if that was all weird and uncomfortable for you, and if you don't want us - or just me - to help you practice anymore... I get it. I'm sorry. I didn't mean for all that to happen."

She was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "No. It's okay. I still want you guys to help."

"You sure?" Michael's voice was nervous and hopeful, but already he seemed relieved. "You're not just saying that?"

She nodded. She was sure; she still wanted to Michael and Jeremy to help with practice and to be her friends. This whole thing had been weird, but... privately, she couldn't deny that the accidental sexual tension had been kind of hot.

Did she want it to happen again? Did she want another chance to watch Jeremy be turned on as Michael said those lines? Did she want another chance to watch Jeremy be turned on as _she_ said those lines?

The answer was looking more and more like a yes.

She heard footsteps in the hall, and a second later Jeremy appeared. "Thanks," he told her. "For letting me use the bathroom," he added after a beat. "Thanks for that." He smiled awkwardly, tugging a bit on the hem of his shirt. "I like the lemon soap you have in there. Smells nice."

 _Is this level of cuteness really necessary?_  she couldn't help thinking. It was so endearing... it made her feel bad about what she and Michael were doing. She shoved the guilt down and ignored it, focusing instead on the light blush at the tips of Jeremy's ears. This time she couldn't resist a smile, which made Jeremy cough and turn away, going even pinker. She just barely caught the tiny grin on Michael's face before he hid it.

"I'm glad you like it," she said. "My mom bought it, I'll be sure to tell her it's a hit." She spun around and finally opened the pantry like she'd been meaning to, scanning the shelves for snacks. "Uh... you guys like Chex?"

"Yeah!" Michael said eagerly.

Jeremy nodded. "Chex is great, thanks!"

"No problem," she said, pulling the bag out and tearing it open. She handed it over and both boys quickly dug in. "So you guys just wanna watch TV or something?"

"Sure, that sounds good," Jeremy said around the Chex in his mouth.

She led them into the living room and onto the couch, digging the remote out from between the cushions and flicking through the channel guide. It took a while to find a show; Michael cast his vote for Ancient Aliens and Bitchin' Rides, while Jeremy insisted he'd be fine with anything she chose. Eventually, they all agreed on How It's Made, and for the next fifteen or so minutes they watched leather basketballs and floodgates be created in comfortable silence, scrolling through their phones and passing around the snack bag.

Unbeknownst to Jeremy, though, she and Michael were quietly texting each other.

_I know I said I want to do this again, and I do, but maybe not this next time, he sent. Maybe like the time after next time or something, you know?_

_Sure thing, whenever you want, she sent back._ Then, after a minute of hesitation: _Can we just get all the weirdness out in the open? Like can we just say what the deal is and agree on where we stand?_

 _What do you mean, exactly?_ Michael asked.

She subtly took a deep breath and typed out her awkward-but-necessary response. _I'm talking about the sexual tension. The fact that Jeremy's into it when we say those lines and insult him like that, and the fact that both of us are into seeing him be into it. That's the truth of the situation._ She sent it, willing herself not to glance at Michael's face to see his reaction to the message. Instead she kept her eyes on the TV, watching the machines do their work until, after what felt like ages, her phone vibrated with Michael's response.

 _Yeah. Kind of messed up, isn't it?_ A second later, he sent another text. _But it doesn’t really change anything, I don't think._

She didn't understand, but she waited, and his explanation soon followed.

_It's not like anything is coming to come from all this. At the end of the day he and I are just helping you rehearse your lines, and it doubles as stealth venting for you and me. Even if there is weird tension it doesn’t change anything. We're just gonna ignore it and keep doing what we're doing, right? I mean I'm definitely not gonna say something, and I'm sure he won’t either._

She studied his text, thinking. What he said did make sense, she had to agree. It was almost a relief to realize that nothing was actually going to happen because of this whole strange situation. The knot of anxiety in her gut loosened some, and she breathed a little easier.

 _I'm not going to say anything either,_ she assured him. _I guess you're right about all this. It's not hurting anyone, and it's not gonna change anything, so there's no reason to get scared and stop._ She waited a moment, then added,  _This is still the weirdest thing ever, though._

 _Yeah,_ Michael agreed.

The show went to a commercial, and Jeremy glanced over at Michael. "Hey, it's 4:30. Think we should get going?"

Michael nodded and sat up, nudging the now half-empty bag of Chex over to Christine. "Yeah, probably." He stood and turned to her. "Thanks for having us over."

She stood as well and smiled, folding up the bag. "Sure thing, thanks for helping me practice. You guys are gonna hang out all weekend, right? Have a good time! Are you gonna play a bunch of video games? Both of you, win one for me!"

The boys laughed. "Well, I'll be sure to win for you," Michael said with a grin. "But he might have a hard time; he doesn’t quite have my skills, you understand. But I guess I could be nice and let him win, just this once." He looked over at Jeremy, raising his brows mockingly. "How's that sound? You wanna finally find out what victory tastes like?"

Jeremy rolled his eyes and shoved him. "Shut up, I win all the time!" He ignored Michael's disbelieving snort and focused on her, a slightly shy smile spreading across his face. "Really though, thanks for inviting us over again and letting us help you practice. I had a good time - I mean, I like helping you rehearse! So um, yeah, thanks! I hope you have a great weekend!"

She smiled back at him. "You too."

Once they had said their goodbyes and Michael's PT Cruiser had pulled out of her driveway and set off down the street, she went into her room and laid down on her bed, letting out a deep sigh. She stayed like that for a while, staring at the ceiling and thinking of nothing in particular. She felt strangely tired and energized at the same time, hands flapping idly by her sides as she waited for her parents to come home.

She'd already made her decision... but the fear that this whole thing was a bad, horrible idea persisted. Despite her and Michael's rationalizations, it was hard to shake the dread that settled in her core.

She rolled over and sighed again. 

* * *

Later that night, after she and her parents had gone to bed, it was an entirely different feeling in her core that she couldn't push away.

The events of their rehearsal played over and over in her mind, with Jeremy's face in painfully high definition. She remembered his delivery of the lines; the sound of his voice, small and wavering in just the right places, echoed in her brain. The memory of his lightly-flushed cheeks and nervous eyes sent heat rushing through her body. God, he was so cute.

She thought of his throat, how it contracted as he'd swallowed thickly before speaking. She thought of his mouth and his shy, pretty smile, and the way he licked his lips. She thought of his hands and how they fidgeted, slender fingers toying with the bottom of his shirt and running through his hair.

She imagined herself kissing him, tracing her hands up and down his body and cupping his jaw gently. In her fantasy his blush would spread across his face and down his neck, even turning the tips of his ears pink. He would make soft sounds as they kissed, and run his hands across her back as she held him close. They would kiss and kiss and kiss and it would be so good and so hot and he would be so gorgeous when they finally pulled apart, mouth open and panting while he looked at her with dark, glazed eyes. She would lose herself in those eyes as her hands explored his body, and he would sigh and moan as she touched him, and the sound would be so delicious she'd lean down and kiss him again.

She couldn't get the idea out of her mind. She laid in bed flushed and warm and hugged a pillow to her chest, fantasies drifting through her head like dreamy scenes from a movie. She pressed her thighs together and listened to the sound of her rapidly beating heart, shifting and squirming as her imagination went further and further.

She gripped her pillow tightly; she would _not_ masturbate while thinking about her friend. She couldn't. It was weird, it was a violation, it wasn't even fair to Jeremy because daydreams were perfect and people could never be, and whatever she imagined wouldn't be how a real situation would play out between them. Not that a situation _would_ ever play out between them. No one was saying that.

 _Jeremy wants it, though,_  part of her thought. _Jeremy wants to date me. He's in love with me. He'd trip over himself to make out with me if I said I wanted to._

She took a deep breath and forced her muscles to relax, letting go of her pillow and scrubbing her face tiredly. She needed to sleep. She just needed to ride out this wave of feelings and go to sleep. Everything would be less overwhelming in the morning.

She closed her eyes and begged her brain to calm down, ignoring her thoughts and focusing on how tired she was. Images still flickered in her mind's eye, ideas racing around in circles and demanding her attention. Instead she simply breathed, steady and quiet, as she waited for sleep to come. It felt like hours, but finally it did, and she fell gratefully into peaceful rest. 

If Jeremy featured in her soft, vague dreams that night, she didn't remember him upon waking.


	5. Chapter 5

On Monday Michael texted her in the middle of English.

_Wanna hang out after school?_

_Sure!_  she texted back after making sure the teacher wasn't looking.  _You have anything in mind?_

_He answered a minute later. Do you like arcades?_

She thought about it. Did she like arcades? It'd been a while since she'd been to one. She probably liked them.

 _Yeah, they're fun! I'd love to go!_ she replied. _Right after school?_

 _Yeah, there's one Jeremy and I like to go to_ , he said. _I'll send you the address. It's not very far._

Oh, one of his and Jeremy's hangouts! Was Jeremy coming too? She glanced up to make sure the coast was still clear and asked.

 _I haven't asked him if he wants to_ , Michael replied. _I can if you want. I kinda just wanted to hang out with you, though. Is that alright?_

She smiled when she read that - Michael wanted to hang out with just her, how nice! - then quickly whipped her head up and cleared her expression when she heard the teacher begin to speak.

"Alright, you'll need to read the second short story in chapter seventeen," he told them. "Once you've read it, choose two of the analysis exercises on the board and have them turned in by the end of class."

She flipped to the story in her textbook and began to read. Unlike with the last story they'd been assigned - about a man getting trapped in his childhood home and losing his mind, eventually killing his wife when she came to rescue him because he thought she was his mother - this tale didn't bore her after three sentences. In fact, she found herself enthralled. A sacrifice to a demonic entity gone wrong, three friends forced to decide which of them would be fed to the terrible creature they had foolishly summoned, a horrible betrayal, lifelong guilt, and in the end it all came full circle and the only one left alive was the monster, sated by the blood and flesh of the three. She was so interested in the story that she read it and completed both analysis questions before remembering she had to text Michael back. As soon as she remembered, she quickly pulled out her phone and did just that.

_Absolutely, I'd love to! Can't wait!_

* * *

 

She ended up eating lunch with Rich by accident; she'd entered the cafeteria late after running into Mr. Reyes in the hall and gushing to him about her show, and then she'd been so deep inside her own head thinking about things she hadn't realized she'd sat down the same table as Rich. She'd also been completely unaware that he'd spoken to her until she sensed the familiar weight of an expectant gaze.

She looked up, saw him sitting there and said, quite intelligently, "Huh?"

"I said hi, and I like your jacket," he repeated.

"Oh! Hi to you too, and thanks!" She glanced down at her jacket and smiled. It was one of her favorites; stylish, unique and easy to move around in. "If you were wearing a jacket, I'm sure I'd like yours too."

Rich grinned. "I'll consider that proof of your faith in my good taste," he said proudly. "But what about my sweatshirt?" he asked, spreading his arms out and leaning back to let her see it. "Do you like it?"

She studied the sweatshirt. It was gray and slightly worn with the words 'Middleborough High School' emblazoned in fading block letters across the chest. Not exactly stylish, but certainly comfortable-looking. It actually seemed a bit big on Rich, but was probably all the warmer for it.

"Middleborough pride," she nodded approvingly. "Always a good look."

"My and Jake's thoughts exactly," he agreed. "Plus it's nice and loose. Doesn't irritate the scars. They're doing good, by the way," he added when she opened her mouth to ask. "The skin grafts are all healed and everything, it's just kinda weird wearing tighter shirts right now. I don't really like how it feels. I'll probably get used to it, though."

"Yeah, I'm sure you will," she said. "I'm glad everything's healing up nicely!"

"Yep, it's all going how it should." He took a bite of his sandwich. "How're things with you? You still hanging out with Jeremy and Michael?"

"Yeah, they're still helping me rehearse for my show. It's really nice to have someone to read the lines with, and you know, they're both cool guys and fun to be around. Even though they've been friends for years I don't feel like a third wheel with them, they're just - " she searched for a word. "Friendly. And nice. I like them both."

"They are cool dudes, aren't they," Rich smiled. "I haven't really talked to either of them in a while, how are they? Like... they holding up alright? Everything good?"

She hesitated. She could see what Rich was hinting at; he wanted to know how Jeremy and Michael were doing in the aftermath of the Squip. How much should she tell him, though?

"Well... don't go telling people this or anything," she warned. Rich nodded. "I've talked to Michael a little bit, about all that. He's... he's trying to get back to his and Jeremy's old rhythm. That's really what he wants more than anything, for things to be back to normal. It's just... hard, because he's still got a lot of leftover feelings about everything Jeremy did, and he can't just forget about how his best friend pretty much abandoned him to chase after popularity with the help of a freaky supercomputer pill."

Rich looked down at his lunch sadly. "I don't think I'm ever really gonna forgive myself for telling him about those," he said softly. "I mean, all of this basically comes back to me. I'm the one who got a Squip, in the first place, I'm the one who convinced Jeremy he needed to get one, I'm the one who gathered that whole stockpile that Jeremy's Squip wanted to spread through the school. This all started with me."

She didn't know what to say to make him feel better. It didn't help that what he was saying was true, if far more self-blaming than necessary. It wasn't like he'd planned any of this. He was as much a victim of the Squip as Jeremy; more so, probably, because he'd had his for so much longer. She got the feeling that 'you're a victim, Rich, don't hate yourself' wouldn't be too comforting, though.

"There's no reason to care about the beginning of all this," she said, hoping it would help. "The beginning doesn’t matter because we're not at the beginning, we're at the end. All of that stuff is over and now we figure out how to move on. And thinking about how things are all our fault isn't very conducive to moving on." She tried to keep her tone gentle but firm. She didn't want to be harsh, but she didn't want any protests from Rich on the subject. "And speaking of moving on... like I said, that's what Michael is having trouble with." Maybe shifting the conversation back to Michael would distract Rich from dwelling on his mistakes.

He cocked his head. "Yeah? How so?"

"Well, he and Jeremy have talked about the whole Squip thing and everything that happened, and Michael told Jeremy about how terrible it all made him feel, and Jeremy apologized and Michael accepted his apology and they both cried and hugged and promised to be best friends forever - I assume that's pretty much how it went, I wasn't there - so things should be better now, right? And they are better, but..." she struggled to find the right way to describe the situation.

Rich waited patiently. "But what?"

"But Michael hasn't forgiven him," she said eventually. It sounded kind of bad, but it was the truth. It was literally what Michael had told her. "He wants to forgive him, and he's trying, and like I said he really did accept Jeremy's apology, but the problem is he's still angry and hurt but he doesn’t want to bring it up with Jeremy because he doesn’t want to make things heavy or intense again. He wants to go back to how things used to be between them and he's worried that won’t ever happen because he can't forgive him. He actually told me he wishes he could just make himself forgive him. But he can't."

She and Rich were both quiet for a moment, thinking about Jeremy and Michael and what she had just said.

"Maybe - " Rich began, then stopped. "Oh, hey guys!"

She turned and saw Jeremy and Michael walking towards them. For a second she worried they'd overheard, but they didn't seem like they had.

"Hey, Rich, hey Christine," Jeremy said. Michael nodded at them.

"Hey," she said back. "What's up?"

"Oh, well, the bell's about to ring here in a minute, Michael said, so we were gonna start heading to class," he said, gesturing to him and Michael. "You know, get a head start before the crowd and all, ha. Uh, so yeah, but we just wanted to ask, um. Are you wanting to practice your lines with us again anytime soon? 'Cause we're not doing anything after school tomorrow, or on Wednesday, or whenever. Do you want to? I mean, I don't wanna invite us over or anything, it's your house, but we really do have a fun time helping you rehearse! So...?" He trailed off with an awkward, hopeful smile.

She repressed the urge to let his adorable features become her whole world and nodded, giving him a smile of her own. "Tomorrow after school would be great! Thanks, you guys."

The bell rang, true to Michael's words, and people around them began to pack up and head for class. She and Rich did the same, waving goodbye to Jeremy and Michael as they turned and vanished into the mob of students. Before he did, though, Michael quickly leaned in and whispered, "Arcade after school, don't forget!"

"Not a chance!" she assured him with a grin.

He grinned back at her and darted after Jeremy.

She pulled her bag over her shoulder and threw the remains of her lunch in the trash. "See ya!" she called to Rich. She wished he could've given her his thoughts on the situation with Michael; maybe another time. Rich might've answered, or he might not have; she didn't notice if he did, because she was pulling up the directions to the arcade Michael had sent her, excitedly studying them as she navigated toward her next class.

* * *

 

Michael's car, with Michael inside it, was already in the parking lot of the arcade when she pulled up. He got out when he saw her and, in place of verbal greeting, did a smooth little dance that ended with a spin and finger guns in her direction.

"Hey," she giggled.

"Hey," he said back with a grin. "Ready to go in?"

The inside of the arcade was neon-lit and smelled like pizza and quarters. Chirps, clicks, chatter, and chiptunes came from all corners, and though there weren't too many people there the place still seemed full and lively. They bought game cards from the kiosk by the prize counter - Michael extended the offer to pay for her, which she politely refused - and set off wandering through the maze of machines.

"So what kind of games do you usually play here?" She asked.

"Well, I like the classic games like Pac-Man and Galaga," he said, putting his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. "And there's racing games, first-person shooter games - there's one where you hunt zombies, it's not Apocalypse of the Damned but it's still fun - and also just like, claw machines and ski ball and stuff. Oh, and there's a coin pusher I'm pretty good at. Want me to reimburse you for the game card? I bet I can."

She laughed and shook her head. "No, but I think Galaga is fun. Wanna see who can get the highest score? I mean, it's gonna be you, you're the video game player here, but still."

"Sure, there's Galaga over this way." He began to lead her in the right direction. "And you might beat me! It's true I have insane gamer reflexes and a reaction time to die for, but I don't play Galaga that much. You never know!"

Snickering at his playful self-praise, she raised an eyebrow and asked casually, "'Insane gamer reflexes', hm? Is that what helps you smack into walls and people and furniture when you dance around with your headphones on?"

He stopped and looked at her, dramatically offended. "Who told you I do that? I don't smack into anything, hardly ever! It was Jeremy, wasn't it? How dare he."

"Yeah, Jeremy told me about it," she grinned. "After we both watched you hip-check a lunch table the other day. That looked like it hurt, honestly."

"It did," he groaned. "It gave me a bruise. I can't believe the music of Bob Marley would betray me like that."

They arrived at the group of Galaga machines all lined up beside each other - a gaggle of Galagas, she thought to herself - and they sat down to play.

She survived for what she thought was a decent amount of time before her little spaceship was destroyed. After that, she watched Michael, who played for much longer and with much more focus. He died too, eventually, and seemed proud of his score.

"Wanna play again?" he asked.

"Sure!"

They played Galaga one more time - again, Christine died first - and then moved on to other games. Pac-Man, Donkey Kong, ski ball, a memory game with colorful flashing lights, a coin-shooter, and a claw machine filled with candy instead of normal prizes. After what felt like a bit less than an hour of playing they sat down by the pizza buffet to relax.

"So how do you like this place?" Michael asked, stretching out across his side of the booth. "Have I brought you over to the gamer side?"

She tilted her head and pretended to think about it. "Hmm... this is a fun place with fun games, Michael, but I only have room for one dominant personality trait, and it's 'theater kid'. Sorry."

Michael laughed. "Well, I tried."

"Then again," she continued thoughtfully, "Jeremy's managed to be both, a theater kid and a gamer. Maybe I'm just being stubborn. What do you think, can I really love video game stages as much as real-life ones?"

"Like you said, Jeremy can do it. I don't see any problem with trying! Let yourself fall in love with those beautiful graphics, Christine," he implored, gazing at her with over-the-top puppy eyes. "Learn to appreciate the feeling of the controls in your hands and the relationships you build with the characters. Discover the joy of finally beating the level you've been working on for six fucking months. Become a gamer, Christine." He leaned forward, suddenly intense. " _Join us,_ " he whispered.

She burst into giggles and he did too. "I think, uh, I think I'm gonna pass for now," she managed to get out through her laughter. "That was a great pitch, though, you almost had me."

"Nice," he grinned. "Nice to know I came close. Next time, though - next time I'll have a speech so good you spontaneously create a YouTube gaming channel before I'm even done. Oh my God, if you ever start really playing video games  _please_ get one of those headsets with cat ears on it."

She snorted. "Oh, you think that would suit me?"

"I think Jeremy would like it."

She stilled, looking at Michael in surprise. He'd said it like he'd only meant to speak to himself, not to her, and the frozen expression on his face supported her theory. Not only that, but he had sounded - not angry, not bitter, but something in that direction. Had something happened between him and Jeremy over the weekend? Was that why Jeremy hadn't joined them here at the arcade - why Michael hadn't invited him in the first place?

She didn't know what to say, but she tried. "Uh... okay. What, uh, what makes you say that?"

"Nothing," Michael said quickly. "Nothing, I just meant, um, I think he'd probably think it was cute. On you. You know?" He smiled nervously, and she nodded slowly, though she was still confused.

An awkward silence began to descend, but she didn't let it take over. She pressed on, now certain that something was going on between Michael and Jeremy. "Hey, uh. If something's, like, bothering you, or something, you can talk to me about it if you want. I'm a good listener, and I promise I won’t judge if it's, like, personal." Michael hesitated, and she continued before he could turn the offer down. "I mean, I don't wanna pressure you, but... I do wanna be a good friend. You can even just vent to me if you want, and I won’t say anything... is something wrong, Michael?"

Michael looked down at the slightly-grimy table and sighed. Christine waited, the noise of the arcade games in the background seeming inappropriately cheerful now. She tried not to seem impatient or nervous as Michael kept staring down, saying nothing, but it was difficult; the longer the silence went on, the more her mind spun improbable yet worrying possibilities. All kinds of thoughts ran through her brain, the worst being 'Jeremy’s Squip came back and it’s trying to take over the school again’. And of course, below the Squip fear but still high up on the list of bad things that could've happened, there was the anxiety that had stuck with her since Friday afternoon; Jeremy was angry at her and Michael and didn't want to help her practice or hang out with her anymore because their last rehearsal had been so weird. The idea loomed over her, like a giant ugly monster, no matter how many times she told herself that it surely wasn’t the case.

She snapped out of her nervous thoughts when Michael took a deep breath and raised his head to look at her.

"Alright, so - " Michael stopped, then began again. "Listen, I just - uh, there was something - it's not bad, it's just - it's something that happened. On Friday night. At Jeremy's house, after we left your place."

"Okay..." she said, not sure how else to answer. She'd never heard Michael be so stuttery before.

"Yeah. So, what happened was, uh - " He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Well, we got our homework done like we planned, and we ordered some pizza for dinner and set up to play video games - like we planned, we told you about that - and we played until around two in the morning, I think, and then we went to sleep. But I didn't fall asleep for a while, I was just laying there trying to go to sleep, but I guess Jeremy thought I was asleep - I mean," he laughed awkwardly, "God, I hope he thought I was asleep - anyway, I just..." He glanced around at the other booths, all empty, like he was worried someone was listening, and then leaned in a bit closer. "Listen, don't - don't think less of him, okay? Don't think he's gross or creepy. I really shouldn't say anything, fuck, but - I just never thought this would ever happen, and it's weird but it's kind of a big deal to me, just - you know?"

He'd sounded strained and worried from the beginning, and by the end he was nearly desperate, looking at her as if her reaction could condemn or absolve him of some great sin. He hadn't even told her what had happened yet; what was she supposed to say?

"Um," she said, "I don't... I don't think I can 'know' until you actually tell me what happened. I still have no idea what's going on." And his rushed, rambling non-explanation had done absolutely shit for her nerves, though she wasn't going to say that.

He stared at her, then put his face in his hands. "Jesus Christ," he mumbled instead. "I don't think we should talk about this, we should just drop it, I'm sorry - "

"No, but what were you gonna tell me?" she asked quickly. He couldn't just stop and not tell her, she _had_ to know. The not knowing was eating her up inside, and if Michael didn't tell her what had happened she would never stop wondering what had happened, if it had been her fault somehow, if Jeremy was mad at her. She _needed_ to know.

Silence fell over them again as she waited for Michael to answer, dearly wishing - not for the first time - that she could read minds. She often thought things would be much easier if she could perceive people's thoughts and feelings. It'd be like understanding everybody's character motivations and backstory without even having to read the script; she'd know it all just by looking at the cover. It would be a simpler world, for her at least. But she couldn't read minds. All she could do was wait, and wait, and keep waiting for Michael to tell her what was going on. _Please just say it,_ she begged him mentally. _For the love of God, tell me!_

"Look," he finally said. "I just - last night, at Jeremy's house, after we went to bed... he thought I was asleep, but I wasn't, and I heard him... I heard him say my - I heard him say both of our names. And I could tell he was... you know. Doing stuff." He fidgeted with his hands and looked away guiltily. "He was jerking off and he said both our names."

She didn't say anything. She _couldn't_ say anything, because she couldn't _think_ anything. Her entire brain had stopped at Michael's words and wouldn't move on, and she was stuck trying to absorb this absolute bomb of information with a halted mind.

Michael looked back at her, a pained expression spreading across his face, and suddenly words were spilling out him almost too quickly to be understood. "I know -  I know it's weird that I'm telling you, I know you probably didn't wanna hear about that but - listen, I just - you said I could talk to you! So here I am talking to you, this is what was bothering me, and it's - I'm sorry, Christine, but - he said _my_ name," he insisted desperately. "I wouldn't have been surprised at all if he'd just said _your_ name, we all know he likes you! But - but this means he's attracted to me, too! We've been friends for years, and I've liked him for a while now but I never thought - I mean I was never sure how he felt about me that way, about guys in general that way, but I _heard him say my name_ while he was - you know! Like - that's a lot, Christine, and I guess - I guess I just wanted to talk to someone about it, and you offered, so - I just..."

He stopped and curled in on himself, hiding his face. "God, I'm so fucking stupid," he mumbled. "I'm sorry, Christine, I shouldn't have told you."

She was still processing, but the shame and regret on Michael's face and the growing self-disgust in his voice got her mind and mouth working again; unfortunately in that order.

"He said my name?" she asked before she could think better of it. If she wasn't so thrown off-balance by the whole situation she'd be embarrassed at the tinge of awe in her voice. The thought of Jeremy saying her name while doing that... while touching himself... If it was some other boy it would make her feel uncomfortable, grossed out, violated even. But it was Jeremy, pretty Jeremy with the sweet eyes and nervous hands, Jeremy who could make her heart do flips with his genuine compliments and that smitten smile he could never hide. Hearing that Jeremy had done that... it was strange, but at the same time, it felt a little exciting. It made Christine feel... what? Sexy? Desired? Those were two adjectives she'd never think to describe herself with, but apparently Jeremy would. And that was an electrifying thought.

"Yeah," Michael said, still upset but now peeking up at her warily, as if he had begun daring to hope she wasn't repulsed by him and what he had told her.

"That's..." she tried to find an appropriate word. "Something."

Michael huffed a disbelieving laugh. "Yeah," he said again. "Yeah, I guess it is."

Surprising herself with her own boldness, she asked, "Do you think it's because of what happened on Friday?"

Michael looked at her for a moment, then nodded slowly. "I think that might be it, yeah," he agreed. "He doesn’t normally do that when I'm there. And by that I mean he doesn’t do it ever. As far as I know, at least," he added as an afterthought.

"It got to him that much, huh?" she murmured, mostly to herself.

"I guess it did," Michael sighed.

She was quiet for a bit. "I'm not mad or weirded out from you telling me," she said. "Just so you know. And, um... congratulations? On Jeremy being into to you? I guess? I mean... that's what you wanted, right...?"

Michael stared. She mentally punched herself in the face several times. _Congratulations?_ Michael had heard his best friend, who he was attracted to, say his name while masturbating, thus proving that he was attracted to Michael as well, and she, genius that she was, told him _congratulations._ Great job, Christine.

She coughed awkwardly. "Um. Yeah. Anyway, I, uh. I had a good time here, playing all the games and stuff with you. Thanks for inviting me." She stood up from the booth and Michael followed suit. "I wouldn't mind coming here again to hang out, actually," she said as they made their way to the door. 

Michael smiled with obvious relief. "Yeah, I'd like that. I had fun hanging out with you too."

It was bright outside compared to the arcade and she squinted to see Michael's face as they stepped out into the parking lot and headed for their respective cars. "See you tomorrow," she called as she opened her door. "Hey, can you and Jeremy figure out when you're both free to help me practice again?"

Michael glanced back at her from the side of his cruiser. "Oh, we're coming over to help tomorrow after school; we planned on it at lunch, remember?"

She did remember, now that he said it. "Oh yeah, okay! See you! Bye!" She waved and got into her car, turning up the radio as she pulled out of the arcade parking lot and headed for home. She couldn't quite appreciate the music, though; she had too many swirling, clamoring thoughts running through her mind, with Jeremy at the center of them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who may be interested, I've written Jeremy's masturbation scene from his POV and posted it as a bonus mini-chapter on my tumblr. [You can read it here.](https://smokyblues.tumblr.com/post/180959127762/method-acting-secret-chapter-head-heart-hand)


	6. Chapter 6

“Shut up! _Shut up!_ ” Michael yelled. “Leave me alone!”

“And who exactly is going to make me do that?” Christine taunted. “You can’t, obviously, you can’t do anything. And in case you forgot, darling, that angel of yours is all the way downstairs partying with Hell’s best.” She grinned wickedly. “Those celestial bastards are tough, but even they can break. I wonder how many times they’ve gotten it to scream so far.”

“Get out of my head!” he screeched.

“What, don’t you enjoy my little dream visits? Surely something as boring as a _good night’s sleep_ isn’t more important to you than I am.” She sighed and shrugged. “But I suppose if all you’re going to do is shout I’ll take my leave. Although,” she glanced at Michael over her shoulder, eyes flashing, and growled. “I don’t appreciate your attitude one bit, mortal. In fact, it rather pisses me off. I think I’ll drop by Hell and see how your angel is doing; maybe it’ll be more fun to talk to. Endless torture _does_ have a way of loosening the tongue, you know.”

“Don’t hurt him!” Michael cried, begging now. “Let him go, please!”

She didn’t answer. She only turned away, laughing cruelly.

When she was finished they were silent for a beat, then the two of them looked at Jeremy.

“How was that?” she asked eagerly.

He hesitated. “Well...” he said in a careful voice. Then he hesitated some more.

Her smile faded. Did he not think it was good? Had she made a mistake? Skipped a line, or said something out of order? She’d thought it’d been a good performance. Had it been bad?

Suddenly Jeremy broke into a grin. “It was perfect!” he cheered. “You’ve got this section down pat!”

Happy relief washed over her and she began to laugh. “Jeremy!” she scolded. “Come on, you had me thinking I’d messed up!”

Jeremy laughed too, standing up from the couch. “Sorry,” he chuckled, looking only slightly apologetic.

Michael elbowed him. “That was mean,” he said playfully. “Say nice things now.”

“Okay,” Jeremy said. “Hm, let’s see… Christine, you’re so good at acting evil it gave me chills. That laugh at the end was horrible, I can tell you’ve really been practicing!”

“You have no idea,” she told him. “My parents are probably starting to worry about me and all the maniacal cackling I’ve been doing.”

Michael couldn’t contain a laugh at that. “Do you just practice your lines where your parents can hear?” he asked. “I’d so feel weird doing that, I’d have to like… go hide somewhere alone so my moms wouldn’t hear me.”

“You don’t need to hide,” Jeremy said. “You’re great! You _were_ great! The tone of voice you used and the way you started breathing heavy like you were actually scared? And how you didn’t just stay at one volume? You got so into the character! Michael, you’re seriously good at this.”

Michael flushed lightly as Jeremy praised his acting abilities, looking down to hide a dopey smile as he turned suddenly shy.

“Whatever, I’m not that great. Nothing like Christine for sure,” he said.

“Yeah, well,” Jeremy turned to face her, a sparkle in his eyes. “I don’t know if there’s _anyone_ quite like Christine.”

She huffed, unable to keep a straight face. “Don’t turn this around on me,” she ordered. “You were talking about Michael. It’s Michael-appreciating hours.” They all laughed at that.

“For real though,” Jeremy said, “It’s so fun to help you practice because you just… throw yourself into it all. You’re so passionate about even the smallest details and it’s… honestly amazing to watch.”

It was his turn to be shy now, and his shoulders came up around his ears while his fingers rubbed at the hem of his sleeve. He was so sweet, she couldn’t stand it.

She caught his eye before he could look at the floor and gave him a genuine smile. “That’s such a nice thing to say, Jeremy. Thank you.”

His face got pink and he practically beamed. She did too, and over Jeremy’s shoulder she could see Michael looking at them like they were the cutest two people on the planet. His eyes were especially soft for Jeremy.

“Well,” she said, a bit sorry to have to end the moment, “I think we got some good work done today, thank you both.”

“Oh yeah, sure thing!” Jeremy said, at the same time Michael said, “No prob, Bob.”

She giggled and lead them back downstairs. They exchanged quick goodbyes and then the boys were on their way. She stretched out on the couch and turned the TV on for background noise as she scrolled through her phone and thought excitedly about her show.

On Friday the other play being put on at the same theatre her show was at opened, putting rehearsals for her show on hold until next Wednesday when it closed and her play kicked into high gear. So far they’d only met for rehearsal a couple times, which made her all the more grateful for Jeremy and Michael’s help. Plus, it was fun! It was tons of fun when they came over and they all read lines and experimented with different tones and cadences and ways of saying things. She loved getting to share the magic of theatre with her friends, it made her feel so bright and happy.

Except for Friday. The situation on Friday had been… different.

She stopped looking at her phone and instead looked at the TV, not actually paying attention to what was on it as her mind drifted.

Things had gotten so weirdly tense so quickly, with Jeremy reading those meek, whimpering lines and Michael snapping back with cruel superiority and taunts. She had watched Jeremy like a hawk, searching for the tiniest hint of arousal on his face, and she had found it. His face had flushed, his posture shrank, he’d licked his lips and swallowed thickly; they were the smallest of details, but she’d seen them.

She hadn’t been entirely unaffected by it, either. There was no point in denying it to herself.

She sighed. Maybe she like Jeremy a little _too_ much. Or maybe she was taking ‘weird theatre kid’ to a whole new level.

Thinking about Friday was dampening her good mood, so she cast about for something else to occupy her thoughts. Her mind landed on something Jeremy had said earlier.

_You just… throw yourself into it all._

She turned that sentence over in her mind, and gradually an idea formed. What if she _really_ threw herself into the role? She could spend a day thinking and acting like the character and gain an even better understanding of her thought process and who she was as an evil demon bully. She could try a little bit of method acting!

The more she considered it, the more she liked the thought. After all, some of the most amazing and realistic performances ever had been by actors and actresses who used method acting. Like Marlon Brando in _Truckline Café!_

But… her character was horrible. If she acted like her, that would mean acting horrible herself. She’d have to be mean to everyone around her. She’d have to insult and bully and be an absolute monster bitch. That was hardly appealing.

Still, it could really help her. And it probably wouldn’t be all that bad; if Marlon Brando could get ice water dumped on him before going onstage to look like he’d just come out of a freezing lake, surely she could handle being a jerk for a day.

And she could tell her friends beforehand so they wouldn’t be caught off-guard! Duh, why hadn’t she realized that in the first place?

She picked her phone back up and typed out a text; she sent it to Jeremy first, then Michael, then Rich and then Jenna and then the rest of her friends.

_Hey! I’m gonna be trying a little experiment tomorrow at school to help me get more into character for the play I’m in! I’m gonna try thinking and acting like her for a day and since she’s a pretty horrible person who’s a huge bully I thought I’d tell you ahead of time lol. Just keep that in mind tomorrow when I’m not myself! And sorry in advance for anything mean I say!_

When she had copied, pasted, and sent the text to all her school friends she laid back on the couch and began to pay attention to the TV show she had on. It turned out to be boring, so she channel-surfed until she found something better and settled in to relax until her parents came home.

* * *

 

The experiment began the moment she woke up the next morning. She got out of bed and showered and got ready for the day while thinking about how much the world sucked and how stupid everything was; she wasn’t exactly a morning person, so it wasn’t too hard to put herself in the right mood for her task. She predicted the real challenge would be keeping it up throughout the day and not breaking character.

All of her friends had texted her back the night before expressing support and encouragement for her idea. Most of them had said something along the lines of ‘that’s so cool!’ and promised not to take offense if she was rude to them. Rich had just said ‘hella’ and sent half a dozen devil emojis. Jeremy had responded with a paragraph praising her and her passion and dedication and ended by saying he could hardly wait until tomorrow.

Tomorrow was now today, and she quickly had to stop thinking about Jeremy because she was losing her bad attitude.

Her parents knew about the whole thing too, so they weren’t shaken when she came into the kitchen and made herself breakfast in what she hoped was bored-yet-irritated silence. She loudly tapped her fingers against the counter as she waited for her poptart; her dad sat down to eat his cereal and glanced over.

“It’s not everyday I have a demonic entity in my kitchen,” he said casually. “Got any fun plans for the day after you finish eating my food, demonic entity?”

She looked him in the eye. “Yes I do,” she said. “I’m going to Middleborough High School to find some little friends to play with.” She sighed, leaning back against the counter. “Teenagers and their emotions and insecurities… so easy to manipulate.” She flicked some hair out of her face and chuckled darkly. “So easy to take apart.”

Her mom looked her up and down, impressed with her dialogue. “Well,” she said, “I hope you’ll forgive my insolence, great demon, but I must ask you not to have too much fun at Middleborough. I’m sure your powers are beyond mortal comprehension, but I get the feeling that you could do some genuine damage if you’re not careful.” She leveled a meaningful look at her.

She understood, and assuaged her mother’s concerns as best she could while in character. “Don’t worry your tiny human mind about it. I don’t intend to do anything drastic. Not today, at least.”

Put as ease, her mom went back to making her own breakfast and gave Christine a tiny, proud smile; it was pretty hard not to smile back like she wanted to.

On her drive to school she put on a playlist of angry, violent music she’d found the night before. It wasn’t her usual listening preference for sure, but she could appreciate the spitting rage and howled curses aimed at life and love and parents and the government. There were one or two she even genuinely liked.

Other than the new music, her drive went as it normally did and she found a space in the school parking lot without much trouble. She headed for the open doors and set her face in an expression that, if she’d done it right, came off as neutral but still dangerous.

Resting Bitch Face, that was the term.

She tried to avoid meeting eyes with anyone as she walked down the hall - she didn’t want to make someone think she was mad at them in particular - but as a sort of mental exercise she tried to find reasons to hate the different students she passed.

That one looks strong, maybe an athlete; he’d fight back against me. That girl with pastel hair isn’t afraid to stand out; there’s one less insecurity to exploit. That boy with his arm in a cast is weak; a pathetic little human with fragile bones. That group of kids all walking and laughing together looked like good friends; they’d be difficult to drive apart and turned against one another.

She did her best to stalk through the hallways and project an intimidating aura. In her classes she didn’t engage or ask questions and did her work like it bored her. In her first class the boy next to her asked what day it was and - with a bit of guilt - she’d looked like him like he was an idiot and rudely informed him that it was Wednesday, obviously. He’d slumped back in his chair with a mumbled, “Just asking,” and had glanced at her bitterly once or twice throughout the period. She’d felt bad about it, but pushed the regret away and continued on.

Eventually it was time for History and Rich sat down in the seat beside her, as had become their custom since getting to know each other. He seemed particularly excited to see her and it wasn’t long before he made it clear why that was.

“Did it hurt?” he asked, looking at her intensely.

She glanced at him, not answering.

He waited for a few seconds before a toothy grin split his face. “When you broke though the Earth’s core ascending from Hell?”

He snickered at his own humor and she determinedly suppressed any genuine reaction. Rich was going to test her, she knew. Well, she was ready.

“No, it didn’t,” she said, barely looking at him. “I’m not some weakling mortal whose neck snaps at the slightest pressure.” Now she turned to stare him dead in the eye, putting all of her focus on him. “You are, though.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then he leaned back in his chair, clearly impressed. “Damn, you’re good,” he admired. “You just came up with that right now? That’s awesome.”

She toyed with her pencil, ignoring the compliment. “You’re acting like we’re friends,” she mused, pronouncing the last word just a bit too stiff. “We aren’t, dumbass.”

“Are you sure about that, demon lady?” Rich said, a hint of mischief coming into his voice. “Because I can’t help but get the feeling that you like me just a little.”

“If you keep annoying me, you won’t be feeling anything soon,” she threatened lowly.

He shot her a lazy smile. “Come on, Hell’s Bells, you don’t wanna kill me. You think I’m funny! I can tell.”

“Can you,” she deadpanned. “And what nonexistent sign pointed your stupid human brain in the direction of that stunningly inaccurate conclusion?”

“It’s not nonexistent,” he said, leaning in closer. “It’s right there.” He pointed at her face.

She pushed his hand away. “What?” She demanded.

The gleeful expression that came over his face told her she would’ve been better off not asking.

“I see a smile,” he sang.

Oh no.

Immediately she had to fight to keep the corners of her mouth from twitching up. Dammit, dammit! She grit her teeth and stared up at the front of the classroom. The teacher was moving around and doing something, she just needed to focus on the teacher -

“I see a smile,” Rich sang again. “It doesn’t matter how much you fight it, you _know_ it’s there.”

 _Dammit!_ His stupid goofy tactics were _not_ going to break her!

He inched even more into her space, not letting up for a second. “Come on, don’t be a grumpy demon,” he said in a silly voice. “Don’t you wanna _smile?_ Smile for your buddy Rich? Huh? It’d make me really really happy!”

She held on to her composure with a death grip. “It’d make me really really happy if you swallowed your own tongue and died,” she managed to say with only minor shakiness.

“What? Swallow _this?_ ”

Foolishly, she looked over at him.

Rich had his eyes crossed and his tongue stuck out making the biggest, dopiest face she’d ever seen and it was honestly a miracle she didn’t lose it completely.

“I’m going to throw you into a wall,” she squeaked. “ _Enough,_ you little fuck.”

Thankfully Rich understood when it was time to let up. “Okay, okay,” he said, hands up in surrender. “You can be a grumpy demon if you want. I won’t try to bring anymore sunshine to your dark, gloomy world.”

He turned his attention to the contents of his backpack, digging through it while she pulled herself together. At least she hadn’t broken character, technically.

“Hey,” Rich said. “I really am impressed with all you’re doing. You’re like… improvising everything and being the character and it’s so cool. I don’t know anyone else who’s as passionate for theatre as you. You rock.”

She cleared her throat. “Your flattery… is noted,” she said. “But don’t think it will be enough to keep you safe. I still might decide to rip your throat out.”

Rich laughed. “Okay, whatever.”

It took nearly the rest of the class period to fully regain her foul mood, especially since Rich still made faces at her every so often. Sadly, she couldn’t get in-character enough to be angry with him.

* * *

 

Rich followed her to the cafeteria at lunchtime and sat down with her. Neither of them had to go through the line, so they relaxed in easy silence while they ate. Rich practically inhaled his food, as he tended to do, and she was trying to find a way to warn him about choking without breaking character when Jeremy and Michael came over.

“Hey, Christine!” Jeremy called. He and Michael hung back a few feet from their table a little awkwardly. “And, uh, hey Rich! Uh, mind if we join you?”

“Yes,” she said flatly.

Rich picked up he slack in the friendliness department. “Nah, you can sit,” he invited. “Don’t worry about her,” he said when Jeremy looked uncertain. “I think she just woke up on the wrong side of Hell today; you know how it is.”

Jeremy gave a small smile and nodded, moving to sit down opposite of them. Michael sat down too, acknowledging Rich with a short wave that Rich returned.

“So uh,” Jeremy said, looking between her and Rich like he wasn’t sure who he was talking to. “How’s it been today so far? With the whole ‘being in-character’ thing?”

Rich answered for her, which she didn’t mind as she was in the middle of eating. “I almost got her to break in History,” he grinned proudly. “But she held on. No matter what I did she just kept threatening to beat the shit out of me. It was inspiring to watch.”

She swallowed her food and said casually, “I still might kill you. How do you feel about eating your own insides?”

Michael replies before Rich could. “Sounds nutritious.”

The three boys laughed at that while she remained stoic. “It is, in a way. Pity humans can never live long enough to appreciate the experience.”

She was about to take another bite of her sandwich when she spied a dot of mustard on her sleeve. She searched for a napkin, but apparently she’d forgotten to pack one.

“Speaking of ‘appreciation’...” she hardened her gaze and practically snarled at Jeremy. “Go fetch me a napkin and I might be less inclined to kick your teeth in.”

The boys were taken by surprise at her sudden spike in aggression, and Jeremy in particular leaned back a little in shock.

She didn’t give him time to be shocked. “Get going, stupid human!” she barked. “If you make me wait you _will_ regret it. Now _go._ ”

He stood up quickly, eyes a bit wide. “Oh, uh - o-okay, I’ll… get it for you.”

She watched him shuffle away and head towards the kitchen for a napkin. When she turned her attention back to the table, she saw twin impressed expressions on Rich and Michael’s faces.

“Jesus,” Rich said. “Hope you don’t mind me saying, but you’re one hell of a bitch today.”

Michael nodded. “Yeah, that was some real shit right there. Real acting shit. You like… _are_ this character, almost. It’s insane how good you are at all this.”

She very determinedly did not bask in their praise. “You humans pathetically easy to control,” she said in a bored tone.

Jeremy returned, several napkins in hand. “Alright, napkins!” he announced. He set them down in front of her.“Here, did I get enough?”

She didn’t answer at first, taking her time and counting exactly how many there were. He’d brought four; she wished she could tell him thank you instead of having to be rude to him even more.

“I said to get me _a_ napkin,” she said. “I didn’t say four.” She wiped the spot of mustard off her sleeve and didn’t elaborate on whether or not she cared about getting more than one.

“Oh. Um… alright.” Jeremy looked off-balance, maybe even a little worried. He fidgeted with his hands like he didn’t know what to do or say.

His reaction… seemed sort of strange. The few other people she’d been rude to today - besides her friends who knew the situation - hd simply been irritated with her. They hadn’t gotten all… uncertain.

She looked closer at Jeremy, though careful not to catch his eye. He was a little hunched over, a little subdued. It was as if he was upset that she hadn’t shown approval at the number of napkins he’d gotten her. Was she reading too far into this? Surely Jeremy wasn’t actually sad about this, right?

She kept to herself for the rest of lunch, thinking and overthinking.

* * *

 

The rest of the school day passed by without much of anything interesting to mark it. She’d had to take pictures of a classmate’s notes in one class because the sound of a video playing in a nearby classroom had distracted her from paying attention to the lecture (and she’d had to sort of… not break, but dilute her character in order to ask semi-politely), but other than that it was an unexceptional afternoon. After that, she had her rehearsal session at the small theatre her show was at. She had fun at rehearsal of course, filled with the familiar joy of being on a stage. It was great, as it always was, and she came home for the night tired and happy.

But later, as she tried to focus on homework, her mind kept pulling her back to earlier. She kept thinking about Jeremy.

Jeremy, who seemed to occupy her thoughts more and more. Jeremy, who she really liked but at the same time didn’t know how to forgive.

She tried to think about her little acting experiment instead. Even though it made her feel bad to be mean to other people, she really thought it had been a good experience. It was important to try as many different techniques as possible to find the ones that worked best, even if it didn’t always feel like a walk in the park.

And it had only been one day of method acting… maybe she should do again tomorrow? One day was practically nothing; some people went weeks or even months staying in-character, like Heath Ledger when he played the Joker.

She tried to control her own thoughts, but they snuck back to Jeremy despite her efforts. How taken aback he’d been when she’d snapped at him to get her a napkin, and the slight look of downheartedness when he’d failed to make her happy.

It didn’t make sense, the warm, light feeling she got at the idea that Jeremy wanted to make her happy; she already knew that, didn’t she? They were friends, and he liked her romantically, of course he’d like making her happy. What also didn’t make sense was the stranger, more unidentifiable feeling she had when she thought of how she’d withheld approval from him at lunch.

Why did she… like that? And… would renewing her experiment tomorrow shed some light on it?

She was tired, and she had homework to do, so she just made the decision.

_Hey! I think being in-character at school today was a really great exercise and I’m gonna do it again tomorrow!_

She sent the text to her friends and did as much homework as she could manage before finally collapsing face-first into bed, eager to escape the confusion of the waking world.

 


	7. Chapter 7

In Christine’s opinion, anything that could make her a better actress was something worth doing. Even if it was hard, or expensive, or required her to make sacrifices, she believed that if doing a certain thing could help her improve in even the smallest way then she needed to do it. The tiniest enhancement to her skill set could open doors, earn her incredible opportunities, and eventually launch the career she knew she was destined for.

If something could bring her so much as an inch closer to the bright spotlight she was born to stand under, she would do it, no matter what.

So she stayed in-character for a little longer than she’d planned.

Not just Thursday, but Friday as well. She acted the part at school and home, pushing deeper into the mindset of a hideous demon who prowled the high school halls and tormented the students for fun. She grew used to having a scowl on her face, used to snapping at others who had merely looked at or spoken to her, used to inventing more and more graphic threats and insults to use on the friends who understood the situation and marveled at her dedication to her craft.

The compliments didn’t make her quite as happy as they should have.

What did make her happy - in a strange way, in a not-so-nice way, in a way she chose not to analyze - was catching Jeremy by surprise. He knew she was still in-character, but it delighted her when she was able to shock him with a sudden biting comment or harsh demand. She liked seeing his eyes widen for a split second, clearly still not used to this new Christine who wasn’t really Christine. She also liked it when he tried to lighten her mood in some way; when she’d called nature garish and disgusting said she’d like to burn it all to ash, he’d tried to counter by talking about how flowers look nice and trees give shade and are fun to climb.

She’d let him finish, and once he was done she’d told him that all he’s said only made her want to kill it all even faster. He hadn’t hid his disappointment very well at all.

She didn’t know why she enjoyed his attempts to make her happy, especially when, as she was in-character, all she could do was respond with more darkness and cold. It was almost like he was setting himself up for failure. Surely he understood that she couldn’t break character no matter how nice he was to her? And yet he kept doing it, like he  _ wanted _ her to break and go back to being herself.

He needed to be more considerate. This wasn’t about him.

He was considerate when she told him to do things, though. Just little orders, like to pick up something he’d dropped that he was already bending down to reach, or to take her money and go get her something from the vending machine at lunch, or even just to be quiet when he was talking or laughing. He always obeyed quickly, often with an unnecessary apology or a nervous, awkward smile that turned to a slightly-sad frown when she ignored him after he did what she wanted and never said ‘thank you’.

She didn’t quite do that as much with her other friends; maybe it was because she liked Jeremy romantically? If that was the reason she liked seeing Jeremy try to make her happy, it kind of made sense; it was important to know that a possible boyfriend considered her happiness to be important, and who wouldn’t want to see someone they liked trying their best to brighten their day?

Even when they themselves were the ones making their day dark?

By the end of school on Friday, she didn’t feel like herself. It went deeper than the whole ‘being in-character’ thing; she felt unhappy. Thinking and acting like her character was making her feel bad, she realized. So she stopped.

She spent the weekend doing things she loved to do. She slept way in on Saturday and took a luxuriously long shower using the aromatherapy shower fizzies she had that smelled like lemons. She put on her comfiest ‘lounge around the house’ clothes and watched Newsies on Netflix while eating the pancakes she’d made herself for late brunch. She played games on her phone, listened to an audiobook while putting together a 2,000-piece puzzle with her mom, practiced piano for a while, cleaned out her closet a little bit, messed with an old slinky she found in her closet while cleaning it out, and basically did whatever she wanted and whatever made her feel good.

Her parents noticed the sudden shift in her mood. Her dad mentioned that she’d seemed a little down recently since she’d tried her method acting experiment, and he was glad that she wasn’t anymore. Her mom agreed wholeheartedly.

Sunday was just as nice as Saturday had been, aside from the homework she had left herself only one day to do. Other than that, it was another happy, relaxing day.

Until Jeremy texted late that afternoon.

_ Hey! Are you going to be keeping up with your method acting thing and staying in character on Monday? Just wondering! _

For almost an hour she didn’t answer him. Even though she had already decided that she was done being the character, she wasn’t sure what she wanted to tell him.

If she stopped, there’d be no more of his attempts to win her approval, no more of him jumping to do what she said without question. No more getting away with the harsh words and cold looks and all-around meanness that was so strangely satisfying to aim at one Jeremy Heere. Wasn’t this whole thing supposed to be about catharsis? Wasn’t the only reason she let Jeremy be so involved in her practicing for the show because she needed to act out her anger toward him without actual confrontation? Wasn’t that the entire point?

That one text from Jeremy brought her good weekend to a grinding halt. Suddenly it was Jeremy, Jeremy, Jeremy just like before. She needed to think about  _ Jeremy, _ she needed to focus on  _ Jeremy, _ she needed to be perfect for  _ Jeremy _ and exist for  _ Jeremy _ because everything was  _ only about Jeremy the Squip said so - _

Her breathing was shaky and so were her hands but she typed out her answer just fine.

_ Yeah, I am. _

She threw her phone down beside her on the bed and flung herself back to glare up at the ceiling. Everything  _ wasn’t _ all about Jeremy.  _ Nothing _ was about Jeremy if she didn’t want it to be. It was her life! She didn’t have to arrange her life around what was best for Jeremy and what made Jeremy happy, she could do whatever she damn well pleased!

She wanted things to be about  _ her _ now. Now it was going be about what  _ she _ wanted, and she wanted Jeremy to do the absolute bare minimum he could after the shiny happy hivemind hell he’d put her through and sit down, shut up, and let her be a horrible demon bitch at him for a little while.

She deserved to be able to make him feel bad. She deserved to have him chasing after any hope of gaining her approval while she held it just out of reach.

It was too late to talk about the Squip and everything again, and she knew exactly what would happen if she tried; she’d start crying, and Jeremy would apologize and apologize and awkwardly comfort her, and she would have to listen to him talk about how he knew there was nothing he could do to make anything better and he was so sorry for letting everything go so horribly. Eventually she’d stop crying and he’d look at her all nervous and ask if she was okay and she would say she’s fine despite the fact that she wasn’t because she was tired and drained and just wanted to stop talking about it even though the entire huge problem looming over them was that they hadn’t talked about it enough.

That’s what had happened the last time. Why would the next time be any different?

If she could just keep working through all her shit in this roundabout way she’d chosen to, over time things would get better and she’d be able to forgive Jeremy for the Squip incident. They could just

move on and be friends. Maybe they’d even date. But only if she kept doing this. Talking about it again would only dredge up all those tangled feelings and they’d never get through a real conversation. Burying those tangled feelings and ignoring them would only make things worse for her and probably give her a complex, and she wanted none of that, thank you very much. This was her best option. If she followed through, things would be fine.

Jeremy could handle it. He probably even liked it.

* * *

 

On her drive to school on Monday morning she decided to tweak her plans a little. Instead of being in-character full time, she’d only be in-character at school around her friends. It’d be less of a mental strain on her, but she’d still reap all the benefits.

It worked well on Monday. She could be herself to most everyone around her, and she lightened up a little with Rich in History, but during lunch with Michael and Jeremy she was in top form. Jeremy seemed a little tense; rightfully so, as nearly every time he moved her eyes would snap over to him and she’d pin him with look that made him freeze like a baby deer in the headlights of a semi-truck. Michael seemed at the same time impressed and concerned.

It worked well on Tuesday also. Every part of the day except for lunch was normal. Michael was at the dentist which left just her and Jeremy to eat together, and a sort of game had developed. The name of the game was ‘how many times could she get Jeremy to do something for her before he got irritated or stopped’? She barely let more than a few minutes pass without issuing a demand of some kind. Get her a snack from the vending machine, now get her a drink from the vending machine, she dropped her fork go get her a new one, tell her what time it is, stop moving around so much it’s distracting, tell her what time it is again, on and on. The game didn’t stop until the bell rang to go to class because Jeremy never protested or refused. He even cleaned up both of their lunch trash without her asking. When he waved goodbye to her as they went their separate ways down the hall she pretended she hadn’t seen it.

Wednesday was both better and worse because Jeremy left to have lunch with his dad. She and Michael ate together and he asked her plainly, “Are you doing this ‘in-character’ thing as an extension of the practice sessions we did? Is it another way to vent?”

She tried to ignore the shame she felt at having to confirm. “Yeah. Kinda.”

He looked at her, thinking. “It’s less… graphic than saying your lines at him. But more… bully-ish.”

“I’m not bullying him.”

“I know you’re not a bully,” he said. “And I’m not saying you’re a bad person for doing this. I actually… I want to know if it’s helping.”

She answered without too much thought. “I think it is. I think over time I’ll need this less and less until eventually I don’t need to do it at all. I’ll have worked everything out and I can just move on.”

He nodded slowly. “Does it make you feel better?” he asked quietly, no judgment in his voice.

She bit her lip. “Yeah,” she said. “It’s not nice, but yeah. It does.” She wrapped her arms around her middle. “It’s hard to feel bad about it when you think about everything he’s done and how much he deserved it, though.”

Michael huffed a humorless laugh. “I’m sure.”

They finished their lunch in mostly silence after that. When the bell rang she packed up her stuff slowly and said, “I might… ease up a little. On the whole thing. I don’t wanna go overboard, so… I might ease up a little.”

Michael pulled his backpack on his shoulders and said, “I was thinking of doing the opposite, myself.”

They left it at that until tomorrow.

* * *

 

She reined herself in after that, like she’d said she would, and Michael slowly began to mimic her in the way he interacted with Jeremy. He did it in his own way, of course, but the end result was the same.

If Jeremy felt like he was suddenly being ganged up on, he didn’t say anything. He reacted to Michael much the same way he reacted to Christine; he very obviously tried to make him happy and do what Michael wanted. Michael withheld approval from him just like she did. No matter how high Jeremy jumped, they both left him empty-handed, grasping at air.

Christine officially quit her method acting experiment that Thursday when her rehearsals started back up following the closing of the other show. They’d been put on hold while the other show ran and now they were finally able to meet again.

She had rehearsals all the time now; Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday again. The week flew by and she was exhausted but giddy as opening night grew nearer each day. She turned in a few late assignments and much of what she did turn in was very rushed but is didn’t manage to bother her. Even Jeremy wasn’t able to bother her now.

As the days went on she, Michael, and Jeremy had found a new sort of rhythm. They hung out more outside of school - as much as they could with her busy schedule, at least - and she and Michael would talk and relax while Jeremy… mostly tagged along. He would talk too, of course, but for the most part he seemed to prefer just listening to the two of them converse now. She and Michael were becoming even closer friends and they could talk for hours, especially about music. Jeremy sometimes chimed in, though it would often interrupt the flow when he did; not because he would change the topic, he just… sort of messed things up in a way. That was probably why he chose to listen more now.

Jeremy also continued to be pleasantly eager to do anything she or Michael might want; he would get them sodas or cookies at the mall, offer to pay when they got food, wait patiently for her and Michael to finish playing before he took his turn at the arcade, and pretty much always let them choose where they went or what they did. He became very agreeable.

Not long after they’d settled into this new rhythm she found herself getting a little… flirty. It was just that Jeremy was being so nice recently, and he did try so much to please her. How could she not appreciate him acting so sweet?

So she would call him ‘cutie’ or ‘sweetheart’ and other endearments, always enjoying how he’d grow a little smile and duck his head. She’d also put her hand over his for a moment to get his attention or wrap an arm around his waist to get him to follow her. It was fun. Unless he tried to flirt back, which she didn’t… encourage.

She wasn’t leading him on; she did like him, and she knew he knew that, she just wasn’t quite ready for them both to be flirting with each other. For now it was better for it to be just her. So she didn’t reciprocate.

She wasn’t sure which of them had started first, but Michael flirted with Jeremy too, again in his own way. He like to catch Jeremy’s eye and wink, and playfully touch his hair, and sit or stand really close to him and lean until Jeremy was supporting most of their weight. He also seemed to lose interest when Jeremy put out the same flirtatious signals; he must not be ready for that either, just like her.

All in all she thought their friendship was developing nicely. Yes, she and Michael still had some things to get over regarding Jeremy, but they seemed to be on the right track towards that goal, and once they reached it everything would be perfect. They could all flirt and be friendly as much as they wanted with each other and let things happen as they would, and each of them would be happy and free of emotional baggage. The more time went on, the better they would all feel, she knew.

* * *

 

Friday rehearsal, Saturday rehearsal, Monday rehearsal, Tuesday rehearsal. She went and she practiced and she was great, all the other cast members said so. They all thought she was incredible and so talented and always so prepared. The director hardly had to critique her at all, and she glowed with pride at that fact. She got more and more excited as Friday, opening night, slowly but surely approached.

Thursday was their final run-through before, but they had no rehearsal on Wednesday. The opportunity was perfect, and she couldn’t resist. She was going to get the band back together, so to speak. She, Michael and Jeremy were going to practice her lines once more, for luck and for old times’ sake; it was going to be so much fun!

“Oh, geez, I’m sorry. I can’t.”

“You can’t?” she asked, smile fading. “Why?”

Michael looked at her apologetically. “Right after school tomorrow I’m going to my little cousin’s recital, and my family’s all going out to eat after. I won’t get home until probably around nine. I’m really sorry.”

“No, it’s okay!” she assured him. “It’s fine, I understand. Jeremy and I can still do it, right?” She turned to look at Jeremy, who was standing a bit to the side. “You’re not doing anything tomorrow night, are you?”

He nodded eagerly, opening his mouth to say something.

She interrupted, answering the question he was probably going to ask. “You can come to my house just after school around four, like we used to. You’ll probably have to read from the script, since it’s been a while for you, but that’s fine because I have it all one-hundred percent memorized,” she informed them both proudly.

“Hell yeah you do,” Michael grinned. “Sucks that I’ve gotta miss out. You guys will have fun, though!”

“Definitely,” she agreed happily. Man, she couldn’t wait!

**Author's Note:**

> This fic and others can be found on my tumblr, smokyblues.tumblr.com


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